


Dreams and Nightmares: Part Two

by Arcane_Light



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 32,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2838227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcane_Light/pseuds/Arcane_Light
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she woke from her illness, Sigyn found her world in ruins. The Nine Realms lay divided, Midgard under attack, Thor fighting alongside outsiders, and Loki... He was gone. Their happiness, their joy, all their hope for the future had disappeared over a splintered Bifrost. Now, Sigyn could only move forward, content to live out the rest of her days alongside her queen, until a jaw-dropping return sends Asgard spiraling once more and Sigyn and Loki are forced to fight for their dying dreams.</p><p>Don't forget to read Dreams and Nightmares: Part One.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of many interpretations I have for the complicated relationship between Loki and Sigyn. It takes place pre-Marvel films and then moves to incorporate the Marvel Universe, showing many of the original interactions between characters, including the developing relationship between Loki and Sigyn. I realize that many of my details do not match with Norse legend or Marvel plots, but it is a story for pure selfish enjoyment only and I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.

Whizzing through the air with a shrill hum, glimmering arrow met solid target with a resolute thud, its head nestled just within the four point circle. Loki lowered his bow with a hiss of disapproval, shining sunlight flashing in his blue eyes as he gazed upon his mediocre shot, and Sigyn could not help but laugh at his disappointed sneer. She tried to muffle it at first, but was soon buckled over in amusement. This only seemed to frustrate Loki more and he set to retying the laces of his leather bracer. 

“Think you could do better, do you?” Loki cocked an eyebrow and smirked at her. “That’s near eighty yards.” Sigyn paid him no mind, quickly nocking not one but two arrows in a single movement and drawing them to her cheek. Not eighty yards, only seventy three, and Sigyn could see the threads in the woven cover of the target as she loosed her arrows. They soared through the air side by side, racing across sunlight and breeze until they buried themselves in the target’s soft flesh. A cool smile dashed across her lips as Sigyn lowered her bow, admiring the tight pairing in the bullseye at near eighty yards. Perhaps most satisfying was the dumbfounded expression on the young prince’s face and how he openly gaped at her marksmanship. “Well then,” he gave a light chuckle. “I stand corrected.” Sigyn laughed and approached the bow rack, refilling her waist side quiver.

“You princes,” she smirked at him as he drew near, “Always so sure of yourselves.”

The archery range lay below her, its targets and lengths untouched and abandoned, at least by those who mattered. His bows no longer rested on the racks, his arrows were missing from the quivers, as was his sarcastic snark. The day seemed dim, gray, and cold as she turned from the balcony, returning to the halls of Asgard’s great palace. Though her ties to the royal house were null and void since that day, she was still welcome. Due to her infirmed state at the time, she had not been suspected of treason and the queen had insisted upon her staying. So now she simply roamed the halls, a voiceless ghost cloaked in velvety black, a mirage in the shadows, a faded image of what could have been and would never be. 

No one seemed to pay her any mind, neither offended by her presence nor bothered by it at all. At first, they all had approached her and relayed their condolences, not for his death, but for his illness and his betrayal. How sad it must have been, they said, how sad to have had to watch him slip into such treacherous madness.

Sad.

Yes.

After a while, they seemed to forget about the mourning never-wife, the would-be bride who had sentenced herself to the life of a spinster, but Sigyn cared not for their whispers. She was grateful for the generosity of the queen, the only other person who seemed to share her aching pain, for the palace was a daily reminder of times long past and beautiful dreams lost to the stars. 

The doors of the great library lay open to her left, towering shelves of books glowing in the sunlight as she passed by, giving only a weak glance toward her precious sanctuary. She had not stepped foot inside for months. She had not read in months. The only books she touched were the ones he had read to her, and those she did not even open. They sat only on her desk. Floating through the halls, she came to the observatory stairs, their sweeping stretches rising above to the crystal dome. He had showed her the far galaxies and she had showed him further, weaving stories of Alfheim and Vanaheim, of magic and mystery. She was not sure why, but her feet guided her to the ballroom, to the marble floors and golden walls, the place where they had once celebrated with joy and happiness. She could see him holding her hand tight, thrusting it into the air to the sounds of rampant cheering. Memories. 

The stables were a welcome retreat. Warm sunlight, the aroma of must and hay, the gentle clacking of shifting hooves. Most of all, the soft gray coat of one dappled mare. Gråvann. They had ridden together, through glen and dale, across creek and hill, with Loki at their side. This beautiful mare was her friend, her confidant. How many days had she come to Gråvann’s stall, whispered her fears, her insecurities, cried into her silky coat? Too many to count. She could have stayed with the calm creature all day, but she had other promises to keep. Brungutt was pacing and pawing only three stalls away, the young colt voicing his impatience. She smiled, grabbing a brush from the bucket and firmly running it through the yearling’s sorrel coat. 

It had taken her several days to absorb what the queen had told her, what had happened while she had been hospitalized. Thor had incited a war with Jotunheim, the fool. She’d always known him to be reckless and completely thick-headed, but she could not believe his carelessness. More shocking was Odin’s decision to banish the elder prince, and to such a place as Midgard, but what she could not comprehend, not after weeks of sleepless and tearful nights, was Loki. How could he? The Loki she knew would never have done such a terrible thing. To let Jotuns into Asgard, to deceive his family and friends, to attack innocent people, to kill an entire race. That wasn’t her Loki. 

Then, Thor had returned, saving Asgard from Loki’s madness. He had set off to further his kingly training, traversing the nine realms in search of the wisdom he so greatly needed, until he suddenly vanished. For weeks the citizens of Asgard knew nothing of the prince’s location, until the Allfather revealed that his son was fighting on Midgard, battling an evil force known as the Chitari. She had read about such an army, their bloodlust and cruelty, and she feared for the prince, but Odin had mentioned another force, a Midgardian brotherhood called the Avengers. Those she had not heard of, but she prayed that they would not leave the elder prince without aid. 

Still, she could not be distracted. She worried for Thor’s safety, of course, but only a blue-eyed rogue ruled her heart and the hole that he had left she feared would never be filled. She seemed alone in this pain, save for the queen. The entirety of Asgard had forgotten about the dishonored prince, the one who had lost his mind, and she only wished that they would forget her, too. Dozens of men had approached her, charming and polite, to woo and bed her, no doubt encouraged by her frantic mother, eager to uphold the family name, but she turned them all away with a kind smile. Even her mother’s prime choice, the king’s guard Theoric. He had been kind to her, speaking fondly of their dance those many years ago and presenting her with many fine gifts, but she had turned him away, too. No glittering thing could take his place. 

Poor girl, they whispered. She must be so distraught, they murmured. Spinster, they mumbled. 

She didn’t care. She didn’t care what any of them thought. It didn’t matter. To her, he would always be her Loki, the clever, mischievous, and bright young man, eager to learn and explore. That was how she would remember him, until she closed her eyes for good and spread to the stars like dust. Her Loki. Always her Loki. 

For now, she had Gråvann and Brungutt, and she always had the queen. There was Thor and even Sif, who mourned not for Loki but her friend’s suffering. It was her own support network, thin and sparse as it was, but she still felt so fragile, so cold. Perhaps one day it would pass. It would have to, lest she fall into complete and utter despair. She could not be so weak. At the very least, Loki would not have wanted that, he would not have wanted her to suffer for centuries. She was strong. She would survive this. With Gråvann’s help.

Her knees buckled beneath her and Brungutt stomped with anxiety as the stables shook and quaked. The newly reconstructed Bifrost surged with energy, its characteristic hum of power rippling through the city, shaking the towers and peaks. The Allfather had only recently repaired the bridge with Heimdall’s help, but the device was only partially operational. Still, it seemed that someone had arrived. She tossed the brush to the bucket and gave Brungutt one last stroke before dashing out the stall, running her hand along Gråvann’s curious head as she raced for the palace. She was not alone. All around, people shouted and ran and she followed the forming crowd as they made their way to the palace doors. 

Could it be Thor? Had he returned from Midgard so soon? Perhaps the Chitari were victorious and now set their sights upon Asgard’s golden throne. She found this hard to believe, given Thor’s growth over the last years. He was far wiser than ever before, far more mature, and the Avengers sounded worthy and formidable allies. Thor would not have failed. Still, her heart raced as she made her way down the great golden steps of the palace, crowds of hundreds gathering to gaze upon the arrival. She pushed and wiggled through the throngs, still several people back from the front of the line, but able to see the courtyard entrance. 

Thor. It was impossible to miss his vivid red cloak and beaming locks, even as she caught glimpses of him through the masses, but he was not alone. Perhaps Sif or one of the Warriors Three had accompanied him or perhaps one of his new comrades from Midgard. Her heart stopped, hands reaching over the people in front of her.

No. 

She knew that face, those robes, those eyes. 

The world slowed to a frozen stop and everything faded away as she stared ahead, at him. It wasn’t possible. He had fallen. Thor had seen it. Odin had seen it. Loki was dead, so how could she be seeing him now? It couldn’t be real. Still, her feet carried her through the crowd, pushing and shoving people from her path as she walked alongside the two brothers. They didn’t see her, but she saw them. She saw him and that was all that mattered, but it was far from a good thing. She could see his face now, his arms. Muzzled and shackled. Battered and bruised. Beaten and bloodied. Her blood boiled. 

Citizens flooded the courtyard as the two princes made their way up the stairs through the palace doors, blocking her path to Loki. She pushed and shoved, pulling and fighting her way through, but before she could reach them, the doors slammed closed and the entire courtyard erupted with chaos, but she was already moving. The people were like cattle, swarming and bellowing, but she was quick, quiet, weaving her way to a back entrance she had used as a child. Within moments she was inside the palace, a starkly quiet change from the madness outside, and she raced toward the throne room, following the sounds of soldier footsteps. 

He was alive? She couldn’t comprehend it. Perhaps she had lost her mind. Perhaps she had only hallucinated his form and Thor had simply been escorting some enemy commander to the prisons. She wanted to believe that she had only imagined him, but something stirred inside her chest, a flame she had thought permanently doused, and she ran faster. When she reached the great golden doors of the throne room, a crowd of nobles had already gathered. They were small in number, but she could already hear their whispers and his name was on every tongue. This was real. 

Only a select few were allowed in, the princes having already entered, but she wiggled her way through, blending with the bustling gowns and armor until the great doors slammed behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short chapter. I wanted to give you a little something at least, but I spent Christmas day watching old home movies. I highly suggest it.

Odin Allfather sat in his golden throne, Gungnir in hand, as Thor and his prisoner entered the hall. The few dozen nobles she had seen enter the throne room seemed to have multiplied exponentially as crowds of people lined the hall to watch the two princes step forward. She was buried deep in the throng, three rows of people standing between her and her goal, but she didn’t care. She pushed and shoved, the people ignoring her in favor of the scandal before them. By now, Thor had stopped in front of the Allfather’s throne, his massive fist clutched tightly around a green-sleeved arm. He released it only to stand before the king. 

“Loki Silvertongue,” the Allfather’s voice echoed from golden wall to wall, “You stand accused of treason in the highest form…” Every soul fell silent as the king addressed the prisoner, but she cared not for his pointless words. With the crowds adequately distracted, she was able to break through their numbers and stand alone in the center of the hall, only a few yards behind Thor and the prisoner. One by one, they all turned to stare at her and, slowly, the Allfather’s words trailed off. 

She knew they stared at her. She knew they looked at her with disbelief and shock. She didn’t care. Even as she made her way forward, taking slow and steady steps, even as Thor stared at her, her glare making even him step back in all his crimson glory, even as she gazed up at the Queen Mother’s dejected face, tears sparkling behind her strong eyes, she did not care. And as she glowered up at the Allfather in his golden throne, her eyes burning with rage and blood and the old man’s brows furrowing with uncertainty, she did not care. For as she turned she knew she would see him for the first time in years.

She hardly recognized him. Gone was the man who had won her heart. Gone were the smooth, black locks neatly trimmed to his neck. Gone were the sparkling blue eyes that danced with mischievous laughter. Gone was the soft, cool skin and devilish smile. This was not her Loki and her heart lurched in her chest. This was the Loki of her nightmares. Hair a mess, robes disheveled and tattered, eyes flooded with agony and sorrow. The pain in his eyes, it was enough to break her there and send her tumbling to the floor. 

The Allfather had been listing Loki’s many transgressions and what he had done on Midgard, something about the Chitari and the group known as the Avengers. She couldn’t care less. Loki was in front of her and he was alive, which was more than she could have ever hoped for, but each moment in his presence only broke her further. Vicious scraps and cuts laced his face, ripping across his brow and nose. Bruises spattered his neck, hands, and face, a pattern of abuse and violence. Worst of all was the muzzle, the angry metal latch that disgracefully silenced him. She could see the tightness of the strappings, how they pulled on his skin causing even more bruises to form. 

“What have they done to you?” she whispered and Loki looked away, his face washed with shame in her presence. Lifting her hands, she reached for his face and he finally glanced up at her, blue eyes begging for help, for comfort. She could feel the tears welling behind her eyes, but any heartache she felt drifted away as she examined his muzzle and shackles. Rage replaced sadness as she wrapped her hands around the torturous metal muzzle and, with a sharp surge of her gold energy, cracked the cursed device in two and tossed it to the floor with an echoing clang. 

Scorched skin free of the horrid muzzle at last, Loki let out an exasperated breath and let his jaw hang loose as she cupped his face in her shaking hands. He was burning up, his skin hot to the touch. Now, she let the sorrow overwhelm her. Before she had even begun to move, Loki was leaning toward her, his forehead finally meeting with hers as the whole of Asgard looked on. For her, though, it was only Loki. As soon as their heads touched, she felt it. Pain. Suffering, but further underneath was something far worse.

Blue light.

Her heart skipped. His mind was flooded with it. Blue light everywhere, poisoning his body. From head to toe he was swimming in it. Angry, horrid, terrible blue light. She sucked in ragged breath as he leaned into her, his bony arms hanging heavy and shackled. He was so sick. Infected. Blue light crawled through him, but one small fraction remained untouched. Deep near his center, his heart was still green. Soft, dark green, beautiful and precious, laced with swirls of gold. He was still in there. Her Loki was still inside. She need only save it. 

“Restrain him!” Odin shouted and guards surrounded them. Loki was ripped from her grasp, she was forced back, and the world suddenly came pouring in. The hall spun with the muttering and mumbles of the crowds as Loki was pulled toward the doors. She lunged and kicked, fighting against her captors, but she could not reach him.

“It’s…it’ll be alright,” she finally choked out as Loki looked back at her, face sick with fear. “Everything will be alright. I promise!” As the doors were heaved open and the crowds surged with gossip and anxiety, Loki found her gaze. Voice drowned out by the hundreds around him, he whispered only one word.

“Sigyn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	3. Chapter 3

The great doors slammed shut and the hall erupted with noise, nobles shouting for everything from justice to the fallen prince’s execution. This only enraged Sigyn more. She threw off her guards, the men tumbling back at the surprising strength from such an unassuming woman, and turned on the throne. She had no words, no way to explain the burning rage in her heart. How could he do such a thing? How could a father treat his son in such a way? Sigyn glared at Odin, her eyes piercing the old king’s golden armor to his soul. Though chaos ensued all around, she saw only the king and his heartless decree, and he seemed to flinch at her burning gaze.

She tore through the great doors, the guards fumbling to clear her way. The Lady Sigyn was on the war path and all could see it as she stormed down the palace halls, her long legs taking her far below the great golden throne room, far below the banquet hall, far below the glorious library and towering observatory until finally it was in her sights. The prisons. She had never been to the lowest levels of the Asgardian fortress before, never seen the cells that held the nine realms’ most feared criminals, but now she went of her own accord, feet thundering down each stone step as she descended into the darkness.

Two guards met her before she could enter the prisons.

“Let me pass,” Sigyn demanded. They crossed their golden spears in front of her.

“None are to enter the prisons,” one replied, “by order of the Allfather.” 

“I demand that you allow me to pass!” she shouted and the two guards exchanged wary glances, perhaps astounded by her impudence toward the Allfather’s order.

“My apologies, Lady Sigyn,” the younger of the two said, a faint twinge in his voice. She didn’t need his sympathy. She needed his obedience and the word of the king. Sigyn flew up the stairs, leaving two stunned guards in her wake. 

“I will return!” she cried out, doors slamming behind her. The palace above had cleared out with an unnatural swiftness, citizens returning to their own corners to discuss the scandal as Sigyn made her way toward the great throne room. Again, two guards attempted to block her path, but they soon moved as they had once before, fearful of her manic rage. When she entered the throne room once more, Sigyn found it strangely deserted. Only the Allfather himself remained, slouched into his massive throne, head resting against his weathered hand. Sigyn’s feet made no noise on the smooth floor as she came to a halt in front of the old king. 

“How may I serve you, my lady?” his grey voice rumbled. 

“Serve me?” she breathed the words, unable to believe his composure. “I would have answers.”

“And answers you were given,” the Allfather replied, “along with the rest of Asgard and all who were here to witness the shame.”

“Shame?” she spat and the old king finally looked at her. “I heard not but words, words that made no sense at all.”

“What is there to misunderstand, dear lady?” Odin asked. “The boy has betrayed us all. He attacked innocent people, led an army of mercenaries against a defenseless city. If not for Thor and his new companions, Midgard would have fallen.”

“And have you looked no further?” Sigyn insisted, her mind spiraling with questions. “What reason did he have for such action? Why make such hasty graduation from harmless trickery to brutal warfare? Loki would never do such things. He is a prince of Asgard; he is your son.”

“He is a criminal,” Odin silenced her, “and he will be dealt with in ways suited to his crimes.” Sigyn’s heart stopped, a sickening nausea rising from her gut. 

“What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice low and quiet. 

“He is to live out the rest of his days imprisoned,” the Allfather said, “cut off from all those he put in harm’s way.” Her stomach dropped and the blood rushed from her head. It was all she could do to keep from falling over. 

“What?” she whispered.

“The boy has lost whatever fragment of his sanity that remained,” the old king said, seating himself in his great throne. “It is just retribution for the damage he has caused.”

“Just?” Sigyn repeated. “Just! How is this just? If Loki is truly beyond sanity, if he is as mad as you believe him to be, then isolating him from everything he has ever known and loved will only condemn him! You cannot do this!”

“And how does a lady of a fallen bloodline come to judge the will of her king?” Odin asked. 

“I do not come before you as a lady of the Vanir,” Sigyn clenched her fists, tears welling in her eyes. “I come before you as a wife, begging, pleading that you reconsider.”

“Admirable words from one so young,” the great king commended her, “but foolish all the same, for you are not his wife. That life is dead.” The Allfather waved his hand and Sigyn was escorted from the throne room, the guards taking her all the way to her chambers in the royal wing. They were certain to make sure that she was securely delivered inside before they left her, but Sigyn would not be deterred so easily. As soon as the guards had departed, she was digging through her drawers, pulling out vials and parchment, searching for the one thing she needed. There, a small blue bottle filled with a delicate liquid. She dug it from the drawer and snatched a handful of heliotropiam blossoms from her flower bowl, crushing them in her fist as she flew to the door. With a great sweeping motion she flung the powered petals in the air and walked through their mist. Now, no one would see her.

Her path to the prisons was eerily familiar, a déjà vu that played with her senses, even more so when added to the mirage of colors and light that swirled around her as the heliotropiam cloaked her sneaking form. Each of the guards wielded vicious looking spears, shimmering gold sharpened to deadly points, and Sigyn was grateful for the bare feet beneath her dress. Falling in alongside the left guard, she pulled the vial from her shirts and flipped open the stopper. Slowly, she tipped the bottle. Out streamed a thin and fluid line of glittering blue liquid, floating and collecting in the air. Cupping her hand, Sigyn gathered it in her palm and held it up to the guard’s face. With a single whisper of breath, it dissolved in front of him and Sigyn watched as his hazel eyes flickered to a hazy glaze. The other guard dozed off just as easily, as well as the final three guards inside. 

As the last guard slumped against the wall, Sigyn making sure that his helmet didn’t press against his face, she turned to inspect the cells. There were dozens, all glimmering with golden force fields. None of the prisoners seemed any wiser to the lack in security and were completely unaware of the invisible lady now peering into each of their cells. One after another passed and still she could not find him. Her hands felt heavy as each cell revealed only unrecognizable prisoner after prisoner. Sigyn had nearly given up hope when she saw the largest cell at the end of the hall. 

Unlike the others, it was not empty. Instead, there was a collection of elegant furniture: a stylish chaise and armchair alongside a sleek table, a short bookcase and a handful of plush throw pillows, even a bowl of fresh fruit and a decanter of wine. Sigyn carefully climbed the three stairs up to the transparent barrier, peering inside to where Loki lay reclined on the chaise with a book in his outstretched hands. Her heart fluttered and she quickly approached the cell’s lock. The device wasn’t overly complicated, a simple contraption used to keep the defensive force fields active and operational. If the prisoners weren’t locked inside, they could have easily deactivated the lock. Well, perhaps not these prisoners. They didn’t strike Sigyn as the most intellectual of sorts. One last click of a gear and the barrier vanished. Sigyn quickly stepped through before it reestablished, the golden light flickering back to life and locking her inside. Loki had leaned forward from his lounge, book clasped in his hand as if he expected to use it as a weapon against whatever intruder now came his way. 

“Do you honestly expect,” she scoffed as she waved away the heliotropiam cloak, “that will do anything to deter me?” As soon as the veiling disappeared Loki smiled with delight, a devilish grin spreading from ear to ear. 

“Why would I want to deter you?” he smirked. “After the hel I’ve been through, you’d appear as an angel and anything you’d wish to do to me would be more than welcomed.” She had not been prepared to hear his voice. The fluidity, the coolness, the poetic lilt was more than she could handle. Sigyn sagged against the wall and, in an instant, Loki was at her side. She buried her face in the soft fabric of his shoulder and his presence overwhelmed her, his touch, his smell, the rhythm of his breath, the gentleness with which he led her to the chaise and placed a pillow behind her aching back. 

How could any of this be real? He seemed unchanged one moment and then completely alien the next and the entire process made Sigyn’s head spin. Was this her Loki? He seemed so familiar, but Thor and Odin claimed otherwise. The things they had said about him, about what he had done. Sigyn’s nightmares and horrific visions came flooding back. Screaming people, horrific explosions, men in strange garb, and blue light. Blue light. Blue light. It poisoned her mind, plucking at the threads, tearing them apart. It was coming from him. 

Sigyn tore herself from Loki’s grasp, flying from the chaise and tumbling out to the open floor. Her breathing quickened, her heart raced, her limbs were shaking like leaves. It was as before, when the nightvisions had tormented her dreams. She could feel her neck starting to twitch as Loki looked at her with fearful eyes. 

“Sigyn?” he reached for her.

“NO!” Sigyn screamed and he drew his hand back. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Loki asked.

“You know damn well!” she shouted and Loki hung his head. “What you did – what they say you did. Is it true?” For a long time they waited in silence, until Loki spoke.

“Yes.” 

Sigyn stumbled back, her knees threatening to collapse beneath her.

“What?” she gasped, the pain visible on Loki’s face. “How…how could you? All those people, innocent people, your brother -” 

“He’s not my brother!” Loki howled, stopping Sigyn in her tracks. 

“What do you mean?” she mumbled. 

Loki shook his head, “It doesn’t matter.” Sigyn forced steady breaths as Loki ran a hand through his tousled hair. 

“Loki,” Sigyn whispered and he looked up at her, blue eyes laced with tears and blood. “War? What could have possessed you to do such a thing?”

He laughed with an exhausted and deranged smile, “If I told you, you’d think me mad.”

“As a clever man once said,” Sigyn took a step forward, sitting in the chair opposite him, “All the best people are.” He seemed comforted by this and set to ringing his hands.

“Did you not feel it?” he whispered and Sigyn grew tense. “The dark shadow looming near, the thickness in the air, the sensation that if you breathed too deeply you might be snapped.” He looked to her and, thinking back to all those sleepless nights and rabid dreams, she nodded. “He was watching you, hand clasped about your throat ready to shatter it if I so much as whispered disobedience.”

“Who?” she replied. Immediately, Loki began to quiver and shake. Hands in his hair, he rocked back and forth in front of her. He was breaking. Something had triggered it. No, someone. After all he’d done, all he’d admitted to doing, the evil that coursed through his veins, Sigyn could not see him suffer. She couldn’t have known what possessed her to do it, to rise to her feet and go to him, to sit beside him and wrap her arms around his huddled mass. He was mumbling something as she began to rock him gently. “Loki?”

“Don’t leave me here alone,” he whispered and she wrapped her hands around the back of his head, softly stroking his neck. “I can’t be alone. I can’t.”

“Shhh,” she leaned his head into her cheek.

“He’ll come for me,” his voice barely reached her ears, but it was enough to rip out her heart. “Please.”

“I won’t,” she whispered back. “I promise. No one can hurt you now, not while I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	4. Chapter 4

It seemed too soon when the guards began to rustle and wake, the effects of her trance wearing off with each passing moment. He had fallen asleep in her arms, his chest rising and falling steadily as he enjoyed a few rare moments of peace, and it killed her to disturb him. He only half mustered, his eyes hooded and puffy. She kissed his forehead, his cheek, his hand, and finally him, promising that she would return. He kissed her in return, cupping her face in his hand before falling back to his bed and drifting off to sleep. Sigyn reset the barrier behind her, locking her love behind a wall of imprisonment. She stood and watched him sleep for a few minutes as the barrier glimmered before her, resisting the urge to lock herself in with him, but she knew she couldn’t and finally turned away, dusting herself with a last layer of heliotropiam as the guards rousted, but she was soon long gone. 

The layer was thick and it carried her through the palace like a ghost, unseen, unheard, but alert. At first, she was distracted by her thoughts, Loki’s words echoing in her mind, but soon she was drawn to those around her. They whispered and gossiped freely when they believed themselves secure, but Sigyn was there and she heard their lies. 

“Did you hear what he did?”

“First Jotunheim, then Midgard. What’s to say he doesn’t turn on Asgard next?”

“And what he did to his brother. It’s disgraceful!”

“What a loathsome boy. So ungrateful.”

“Foul creature.”

Hidden safely from sight, she wanted to rip their treacherous throats out. How dare they betray their prince so quickly? Fickle, shallow, prideful wretches. Were they so sinless? If they only knew the scandals that surrounded them, the greed and gluttony and lust that ran rampant through the noble ranks. If they only knew what had driven Loki to such horrible actions, his pain and torment, his maddening puppeteer. He had only meant to protect her, save her from the pain he now endured. She wanted to cry, even as she escaped behind her chamber doors. 

Loki. What had become of her Loki? His soul was twisted, his mind poisoned, his sanity shattered, and she had left him alone and afraid in that prison cell. The sleeping draught she’d slipped him would give him rest for a few days at the most, enough time for her to pluck the strands of Asgard’s whisperings and gather more information, enough time to see what would become of her resurrected lover. For now, though, she needed rest. Her eyes grew heavy, burning with exhaustion and sorrow as she made her way to her bed. She crashed into the plush blankets, falling into darkened sleep. 

She woke in frantic shock near twenty four hours later, her joints stiff and her bones like boulders as she flew from her bed, quickly grabbing her knapsack and another handful of heliotropiam before slipping out the doors. She knew Odin had her watched; she was no fool. The guards were hardly inconspicuous with their constant hovering and Sigyn slipped them with little effort. Soon she was in the prisons once more, stepping across the barrier into Loki’s cell as a handful of guards dozed behind her. 

“Sigyn,” Loki rose from his desk, tossing aside his quill as he took her in his arms. She threw her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. “Sigyn…” he whispered her name over and over. 

“Did you sleep well?” she asked when he led her to the chaise before returning to his desk. 

“Better than most days,” he smiled and returned to scribbling in his journal. It was a strangely serene scene, Loki at his desk while Sigyn sorted through her bag. Almost blissful, as if nothing had changed at all. Sigyn dug in her bag, pulling out the stack of books Loki had been reading to her in the infirmary. He smiled when she handed them to him, along with three new wells of ink, a fresh bundle of quills, and a roll of crisp parchment. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” she smiled. “I thought, perhaps, I could try to bring the harpsicord for you.”

“The harpsicord?” Loki laughed. “How ambitious.” He set to scribbling once more and Sigyn couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of the golden barrier behind him, how it shattered their peaceful illusion. 

“Something troubles you, my dear?” Loki called out over his shoulder.

“What?” she was caught off guard.

“I may not have my mother’s gifts,” she could hear the smirk in his voice, “but I am fairly astute.”

“Of that I am well aware,” Sigyn grinned. 

“That does not answer my question,” Loki persisted. Sigyn was not sure if she wanted to share her findings with him, what the people of Asgard had been saying. “Sigyn?” Loki had turned around in his chair to face her, brows creased with concern. “Sigyn, what’s wrong?” She forced a smile instead of allowing the sadness to betray her, but somehow – as always – he saw through her rouse and came to kneel in front of her. He took her hands in his, stroking the back of her hand with his long, slender fingers as he gazed up at her. “Please tell me,” he implored. 

“It’s nothing,” she insisted, but he was persistent, not moving from his perch as she gripped his hands. “I…I thought you dead.” 

“Sigyn,” he pulled her to him, wrapping her in his arms.

“You fell,” she mumbled into his shoulder and he held her tighter. “I…I thought I had lost you.”

“No,” he sighed, holding her back to wipe the few tears from her face. “You haven’t lost me. You’ll never loose me. This I swear.” 

“How can you promise such a thing?” Sigyn closed her eyes. “You fell! You vanished! You were dead!” Now the tears came in full force. She hated to cry, especially in front of him, but her heart could take no more and she crumbled. 

“No, Sigyn, please,” he brushed the hair from her face. “Please don’t cry.” He held her in his arms as she sniffled. “Why?” he mumbled into her curls. “Why do you cry so?” She knew why, deep in her soul. She knew why his death had destroyed her and she knew how to say it. 

“Because I love you,” she whispered into his sleeve. His arms tightened around her.

“And I love you, Sigyn,” he murmured in her ear. “My light, my love.” 

“I wish I could take you from this place,” she nestled into his embrace as they reclined on the chaise. He began to run his fingers through her hair as she played with the hem of his tunic. 

“They would surely notice my absence, my clever lady,” Loki snickered. “Even with your skills of illusion.” 

“Then I wish I could stay here with you,” Sigyn replied and his hand froze momentarily before continuing its brushing.

“You would do that?” he mumbled. “Stay in this prison with me?” Sigyn leaned up to look at him, his blue eyes showing a shadow of their old gleam. 

“Yes,” she said. “I will not abandon you. Not now, not ever. After all that you have endured for me, how could I? What greater love is there than to sacrifice one’s life for another?” 

“I have never heard you speak so freely, my lady,” Loki smirked and she worried she had gone too far. “I would have you do it more often.” She smiled and returned to her nest in his arm crook. They laid together, hands intertwined and fiddling with each other’s fingertips, until Loki broke the silence. “I wish I could have married you,” he whispered, clutching her hand in his. Sigyn thought of the throne room and the Allfather’s cruel words. _You are not his wife._

“Do you still wish it?” her mind began to churn. This time, it was Loki who raised her up so he could look her in the eyes. 

“I would marry you here and now,” Loki said, “and for all eternity.” The spark in her mind roared to life as she lay down next to him, her thoughts whirling and spinning. When they parted that night, Sigyn barely had the focus to sleep. She couldn’t, not with the energy that surged in her mind, the frightfully glorious idea that had sprung forth. The next day she requested an audience with the Queen Mother and arrived at her chamber not in her mourning dress, but in skirts of lovely lavender, the favored color of her youth. 

“My child,” the queen extended her arms and Sigyn graciously folded into them, soaking in the loving mother’s warmth. “What trials we must face in this life. I would never have wished such sorrow on you.” 

“Nor I on you, dear mother,” Sigyn replied, parting from the queen and following her to the beautiful, domed greenhouse on the patio. Serene and calm, Sigyn had always felt safe within these glass walls surrounded by luscious flowers and greenery, an oasis among the metal and gold of Asgard’s halls. 

“What may I do for you, my daughter?” the queen grabbed two pairs of shears and handed one to Sigyn. They trimmed the cowslip bushes together, glimmering sunlight streaming through the paneled ceiling.

“I have gone to the prisons,” Sigyn admitted and the queen’s shears stopped for a moment before trimming off a wilted branch.

“I can’t say I am surprised,” Frigga answered, hoisting a watering can from the cobblestone floor and dousing the flowers. 

“But do you disapprove?” Sigyn asked, afraid that the queen would chastise her for disobeying the Allfather’s order. 

“My husband may be wise in many things,” she said, “but in this matter he is wrong. Isolating Loki will not help him. I only wish my husband could see this.”

“Is there nothing you can do to dissuade him?” Sigyn pleaded, desperately hoping that the queen would have some sway over the old king. 

“I have done all that I can to convince him,” Frigga assured her. “He will not be changed.” Sigyn placed her shears on the table, gripping the edge until her fingernails scraped the surface.

“I cannot stand by as he slips further into madness,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Not when we were so happy, so full of hope!” 

“And I mourn for the future that was stolen from you,” the queen dropped her shears and grasped Sigyn’s hands. “You were Loki’s saving grace, his greatest victory and the key to his happiness. I fear what will become of him without you in his life.”

“I will not be absent from his life!” Sigyn declared. “I refuse to abandon him as so many have. I love him!” At this the queen’s eyes softened and a gentle smile graced her elegant face.

“And he loves you,” she sighed. “I only wish you could have lived out your love together.”

“We still can,” Sigyn grew determined, taking a step back from the queen. 

“What are you thinking, child?” Frigga asked. Sigyn knew she could trust the queen mother above all others, so she held no reservations in relaying to her what Loki had revealed in the prisons, his torment and torture, his manipulation by an unknown force, and the blue light of her nightvisions. The queen absorbed it all, listening intently as Sigyn explained. “He was trying to protect you,” the queen finally said after Sigyn had finished. She nodded. “And what would you have me do?”

“Grant us your blessing,” Sigyn begged, “as you once did.”

“My blessing for what, dear child?” Frigga asked. 

“Our marriage,” she said. At once, Sigyn was on edge. Yes, many years ago the queen and king had blessed their marriage, but much had changed since then. Sigyn had no way of knowing if Frigga still shared the same thoughts. Suddenly, the queen approached her and lifted her hand. Sigyn reached out and place hers atop, watching as the Queen Mother rested her other hand over Sigyn’s. 

“My child,” she said, squeezing Sigyn’s hand, “As I have said so many times before, you are and always shall be my daughter. I dream of nothing but happiness for my children.” Sigyn’s heart raced with excitement and relief. 

“Does that mean?” she stuttered.

“Yes,” Frigga smiled. “After all that my son has endured, he deserves this small bit of happiness. I will help you, but for now we must not reveal this to anyone. Not to Thor, Freya, Sif, or the Allfather, but once it is done nothing in the nine realms will be able to undo it. Not even Odin.” Frigga led her to the greenhouse’s door, slipping her a quick hug before relaying one final piece of instruction. “Go now, child. Seek out your grandfather’s advisor. He will surely help you, in honor to his king of old.” Sigyn nodded and gave the queen mother another quick hug before disappearing out the chamber doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	5. Chapter 5

Several months had passed since Sigyn had first visited him in his cell, gracing the horrid prison with her warmth and light, but only weeks had passed since she had shared with him a magnificent plan. The dream he had thought lost forever was within his grasp once more. Sigyn could yet be his. They could still be together even if it meant her secret visits each night and a life hidden far below Asgard’s halls. It was more than he could have ever hoped for and if that was all he got, he would be happy the rest of his days. Sigyn made him better; she healed him, not only in body, but in spirit and mind. The voice that had haunted his every waking moment no longer tormented him. His nights were peaceful and sleep-filled, his days filled with anticipation of her arrival. He had not seen the blue light in months, nor had Sigyn. Their hope was returning slowly, but surely. 

Most days were spent awaiting his love’s return, but when he could sit silently no longer, Loki busied himself with reading, composing, writing, and sketching. Sigyn brought with fresh supplies each visit. Sometimes it was a pile of books, other days it was a collection of charcoals or quills. Each item she brought helped break the monotony of his cell and he soon felt far more at home than imprisoned. Strangely enough, he came to think of his cell as their own little home with touches of both Loki and Sigyn in every piece and part. He felt that it must be what married life was like. Most of the books Sigyn brought Loki had requested specifically, information contained within pertaining to ancient celestial beings, dark forces, those who wielded great power. Power enough to manipulate the mind. He remembered more than expected about his tormentor and was determined to identify this unseen force. 

~*~

A crowd of market-goers rushed past her, laughing and shouting, and Sigyn pulled her cloak tighter. She had hoped the streets of Asgard to be far less populated during the late evening hours, but instead they were uncomfortably crowded, which made her current task regrettably difficult. Still, she was undeterred. With Loki’s enamored excitement and Frigga’s unwavering support, Sigyn found herself more determined than ever. She only hoped that her grandfather’s old friend would share her enthusiasm. His was a humble abode, a small and simply dwelling tucked into the Vanir neighborhoods of Asgard’s eastern district, and Sigyn recognized it immediately by the rune over the door. She had seen it many times in her youth. 

As the small wooden door shut behind her, Sigyn was washed in the scent of incense, juniper, and pine, immediately taken back to her grandfather’s temple in the beautiful forests of Vanaheim. All around were reminders of the blessed past: oils and bowls, urns and flowers, icons and runes. She half expected to turn around and she her grandfather conversing with the goði. 

“Lady Sigyn?” a voice muttered behind her and she turned to see the priest of her grandfather’s reign, the old bearded man of her childhood wrapped in thick woolen robes and leaning on a crooked walking stick. 

“Gebhard,” Sigyn smiled and graciously accepted his gentle embrace. 

“My dear child,” the grey-haired goði gripped his staff, “To what do I owe the pleasure? It is always a joy to see one of Njord’s lovely daughters.”

“And it is good to see you, wise goði,” she helped him to his chair.

“Gah, nonsense,” the old man waved off her compliment. “I am a dusty old man, a relic of a time long past. How is your grandfather?”

“He is well,” Sigyn replied. “I shall tell him you asked after him.”

“Far from necessary,” Gebhard chuckled. “We relics are innately attuned to each other. Don’t you know? All old people know each other.” Sigyn laughed and set to preparing a small pot of tea. She rustled the crackling fire within the hearth and brewed a cup of white blueberry for each of them before sitting opposite him. They discussed many things of the old days, her grandfather’s reign and the fall of the Vanir, her sisters’ marriages and her mother’s exploits. Finally, they ran out of pleasantries. 

“I must admit,” Sigyn wrapped her fingers around the warm cup, “I’ve not been entirely honest about my intentions in visiting you this day.”

“Hmm,” the old man took a sip of his tea. 

“Truthfully,” she continued, “I came at the Queen Mother’s recommendation.”

“Queen Frigga, you say?” Gebhard mumbled.

Sigyn nodded, “She and I have prepared a proposal of sorts.”

“And what proposal might that be?” the bearded man inquired, hazy eyes watching her carefully, and she grew very nervous. Suddenly, she was a child once more. “My dear,” Gebhard leaned forward, “I know why you’ve come.”

“You do?” her breath caught in her throat.

“I know of the young prince’s return,” he explained. “You were once betrothed.”

Sigyn nodded and stared down at her tea, “Yes.” 

“Your grandfather sought my council at that time,” Gebhard told her and Sigyn looked up, obvious question in her eyes. “As was the tradition of old, your grandfather requested my opinion on the union.”

“And what did you say?” Sigyn’s nerves intensified, but settled as the old man smiled at her.

“Quite obviously, based on the events that followed,” he chuckled, “I approved.”

“You did?” she smiled and he nodded once more.

“As I told your grandfather those many years ago,” Gebhard said, “I thought you the perfect balance for the young prince’s mischievousness and ambition, a temper to his tricks, a fetter.”

“You thought me a leash,” Sigyn grumbled, gripping her teacup that it almost shattered. 

“No,” Gebhard corrected her. “A guiding hand. Something the young prince did, and still does, desperately need.” At this, Sigyn’s ears perked and she looked to her grandfather’s advisor. The man set aside his teacup and reclined in his chair. “You’ve come to me today to ask the same question your grandfather did, to ask my blessing over your marriage.”

“Yes,” Sigyn replied, though she doubted the old man needed confirmation. “I know how it must look, that I would willingly commit myself to a man accused of such treacheries, but I know he is still good, still strong and just, brave and selfless beyond all measure. I cannot tell you why I believe this, but I must ask you to trust me as you trusted my grandfather. I love Loki and I will stand by him, with or without your blessing.” For a long time, the old goði did not speak. He only sat in his chair, half hidden behind his many layers of thick grey robes, and Sigyn began to fear the worst. 

“The next full moon,” Gebhard finally said. Sigyn was caught off guard.

“What?” she whispered. 

“We’ll need the light,” the old advisor hoisted himself from his chair and headed for the door with Sigyn in hand. “Tell the queen to send a messenger. We’ll need to discuss the details of the night, including when and where, as well as how to get me inside the palace walls unseen.”

“Does this mean?”

“Yes, dear girl,” Gebhard smiled and opened the door, golden streams pouring in from the streetlights. “You have my blessing and my services. Now go!” Sigyn dashed through the streets, endless joy fueling her steps. It would happen. She couldn’t believe it, but somehow it was real. With Frigga and Gebhard at their side, she and Loki would finally be free. She was so distracted by her excitement that Sigyn did not notice the cloaked figure coming around the corner until the two collided and Sigyn went stumbling into the wall. Knife already in hand, Sigyn turned on the figure and was met with yet another blade and long dark tresses.

“Sif?” she gasped. 

“Sigyn?” the warrior sheathed her blade. “What are you doing here, and at such an hour?” Sigyn scrambled for an answer.

“I was, uh…” she stuttered, “visiting an old family friend.” It wasn’t completely untruthful and yet still kept the nature of her actions hidden. 

“Oh,” Sif furrowed her brows. “I see. Well, I would escort you back to the palace, but I am on my way to meet the third platoon.”

“Security sweeps?” Sigyn was glad for the change of subject. 

Sif nodded, glancing toward the walls, “They’ve spotted rouges near the western woods and requested immediate reinforcements. Thor and the others should be along soon.” 

“Well then!” Sigyn gathered her skirts, “I should be off. I wouldn’t want to keep you and let those boys think they’d beaten you there.”

“Right,” Sif offered a weak smile before heading up the street. “Be careful, my friend. Don’t forget what happened the last time you wandered off!” Sigyn had not forgotten and, as she raced through the winding streets toward Asgard’s glowing palace, she knew she would never regret that day in the woods, for it had been the start of something incredible, something epic, a chain of events that had shifted the course of her future. For better or worse, she now stood at a new precipice, a thousand versions of reality lying behind her as she walked toward an uncertain future, but her steps now held greater confidence. She knew she would not be alone. Never again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	6. Chapter 6

He had not wanted the mirror his mother brought. After a passing glance had left him enraged, Loki had buried the foul thing beneath the cushions of his chaise. He was hardly a superficial person, but the image staring back at him had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Is this what he had become, a deranged and manic looking villain? He grimaced at the thought of Sigyn having seen him so changed. He’d been particularly careful during her last visits, hastily combing his hair and straightening his tunic before she ever arrived. 

Beyond Sigyn, nothing could tear him away from his studies. It was his mission, his purpose. Loki rarely slept more than a few hours each night, sometimes not at all, his desk surrounded by piles of crumpled parchment, dried out ink wells, ancient tomes, and tattered journalistic accounts. There were even a few of his own scribbled drawings, but none of them sufficed in capturing the face of his tormentor. All of this he meticulously cloaked each day with a fresh layer of illusion so as to hide Sigyn’s visits from the guards and Odin. He need not worry about such efforts when his mother visited as the queen was well aware of his fiancé’s nightly lingering. This fact he greatly treasured, for it meant his mother still held some fragment of hope for her young son, that she somehow still believed in him. 

“Loki,” his mother’s voice drew him from his books. He turned around and found her false form standing before him, a large bundle in her arms. 

“Mother,” he placed his quill and rose to meet her.

She held out the package, “Here. For you.”

“Another gift?” he grinned and shook his head, entertained once more at how the mirage turned solid in his hands. “What is it this time?”

She smiled, her face awash in the greatest shade of happiness he’d seen on her in years, “One you will surely appreciate the most.” She took a seat on the chaise and watched with glee as Loki unwrapped the bundle. Layer by layer, he soon found that the wrappings themselves were a thick black hooded cloak that trailed to the floor. Unfurling it Loki discovered a finely embroidered tunic of black and gold, dark trousers, and lastly, with an extra dose of magic, out rolled a pair of tall leather boots. 

“What is this?” he admired the detail and craftsmanship, running his fingers along the delicate stitching. When he looked up at his mother she was smiling ear to ear. “What’s going on?” he asked. The queen rose from her place and reached inside the folds of her periwinkle skirts, producing a beautiful blade, slender and striking silver laced with lavender and gold. She handed it to him and Loki suddenly felt warmly whole. It was a magnificent piece, not meant for the brutality of the battlefield but for the graceful admiration of all to see. 

“You’ll need to hurry,” the queen smiled, her form beginning to flicker and fade. “It’s already sundown.”

~*~

“Quickly, my dear,” the queen whispered, leading her around a corner. “This is our window.” Frigga peered around the corner, the heliotropiam veil glimmering at the edges of her golden curls and dark robes as she led Sigyn through the empty palace halls. Though it was long past dusk, the great echoing hallways were filled with the white light of the full moon, Máni himself illuminating their path as Frigga clasped Sigyn’s shaking hand. She gave it a tight squeeze as they made for the inner sanctuary. 

Each day that passed had brought with it greater and greater anxiety, to the point where Sigyn had scarcely slept and resorted to drinking her own brew of sleeping draft to cast away the bags beneath her eyes, though it made little difference. The people of Asgard thought nothing of her haggard appearance, more than convinced that the rejected bride was still suffering after the endless humiliation she had endured. Sigyn felt no shame and cared nothing for their words. They were fools. Still, Sigyn had graciously accepted the queen mother’s assistance when it came to preparing for the blessed night. 

“Here,” Frigga had handed her a small bundle wrapped in soft velvet. “For you.”

“Thank you,” Sigyn replied and began unwrapping the gift. With the last fold pulled back, a beautifully crafted hair pin was revealed, delicate golden metal twisted and spun around into intricate flowers. “Thank you,” she said again, this time as an astounded whisper. 

“Allow me,” the queen smiled and took the piece from Sigyn’s hands, placing it gingerly behind her ear to secure her curls. Frigga gently fixed Sigyn’s hair, resting her hands on her shoulders and coming in for a loving hug. “You look lovely, my dear daughter,” the queen smiled and Sigyn could not help but smile in return. “I pity the ranks of Asgard for missing out on such a sight.”

“Thank you, Frigga,” Sigyn caught her gaze, “for everything.” Frigga came to kneel beside her, Sigyn caught by the humility of the action.

“As I have said before,” the queen took Sigyn’s hands, “I want nothing more in this life than the happiness of my children. Now, that includes you.” At this, the queen embraced her, her strong arms wrapping Sigyn in the warmest hug she’d ever received, and soon Sigyn was returning the gesture in full force, tears trickling down both smile faces as they parted. “Now!” the queen leapt to her feet and approached the wardrobe, “I have another gift for you.”

“Please, my queen,” Sigyn waved her hands, “You have done so much already! I could not possibly accept anything else from you. You are too generous.”

“Nonsense,” Frigga opened the doors of the wardrobe and Sigyn’s mouth dropped. “You are my daughter now and I may spoil you as I see fit.” 

The gown was beyond anything Sigyn had ever worn, a beautiful combination of elegance and simplicity: dark burgundy velvet, the color of rich wine, simply cut with slender sleeves and silhouette. The queen had also provided a thick black cloak that hid Sigyn from head to toe and it danced across the marble floors as they crept through Asgard’s empty halls. At last they emerged into the cool night air, the endless universe swirling above with a majesty of glittering diamond stars. Before them lay the heart of the city, the source of the Bifrost, and the ancient tree. 

Though the Bifrost was old as the universe itself, few could claim to know its origins, save perhaps Heimdall, the great guard, or the Allfather. Here, the glittering bridge seamed to rise from the earth, patches of shimmering glass peeking out from underneath thick, lush moss as a babbling creek wove between smooth stones. Here, there arose an ancient tree, old as the Bifrost itself, growing strong and steady from the energy of the rainbow bridge and the crystal water, casting its gentle cover over the peaceful garden. Shimmering silver leaves rustled overhead as Sigyn and the queen carefully floated from stone to stone, making their way up the small hill to the base of the tree. When they came to the small summit, Sigyn saw him.

Her grandfather’s goði, Gebhard, stood beneath the crooked arms of the ancient tree, his faithful walking stick gripped tightly in his wrinkled hands as he spoke with the bridegroom. When he saw Sigyn and the queen approaching, he pointed and Loki looked her way. By now she had nearly reached the tree, her skirts clutched in one had as Frigga led her with the other, helping her step over stone and brook to stand before the tree. At last, the queen released her hand, allowing Loki to guide her up the final step. 

When they stood face to face, Sigyn’s breath escaped her. It seemed as though they had traveled through time, the Loki before her an image of the past with all the wisdom and experience of the future. He was beautiful, dressed simply and without armor in all onyx, his hair combed loosely from his face as he took her hands. At first she thought him sad from the weariness on his face, the pinch of his brow and the glisten in his eyes. A single tear escaped him and she quickly brushed it aside with her thumb, taking his face in her hand. He closed his eyes, leaning into her embrace and layering his own hand over hers. When he looked at her at last Sigyn saw his joy, the happiness emanating from his blue eyes as the goði moved to stand before the tree. 

“You are radiant,” Loki whispered and Sigyn glowed. 

And the goði spoke: 

“Before there was soil, or sky, or any green thing, there was only the gaping abyss of Ginnungagap. This chaos of perfect silence and darkness lay between the homeland of eternal fire, Muspelheim, and the homeland of eternal ice, Niflheim. Frost from Niflheim and billowing flames from Muspelheim crept toward each other until they met in this darkness. Amid the hissing and sputtering, the fire melted the ice, and the drops formed the first life.”

The goði brought forth a wide wooden bowl filled with dark wine and a thick sprig of fir. He took the soaked branch and used it to sprinkle the red liquid on the moss-covered ground at their feet, a few drops splashing on Loki’s boots and her bare feet. He handed the bowl to Loki who took it to his mouth and drank, flashing a glance at Sigyn. When he’d finished he passed the bowl to her, their fingers touching ever so slightly, and she brought the bowl to her lips, the rich liquid tasting sweet in her mouth. She returned the bowl to Gebhard who placed it and the fir-twig at the base of the great tree. 

“We are a warrior race," the goði said, "of the sword and of the shield, and yet also wielders of the mind and of the seiðr. As the glorious Valkyries of the heavens, you are bathed in shining light. _Light shone from Logafell, and from that radiance there came bolts of lightning. Wearing helmets at Himingvani came the Valkyries. Their byrnies were drenched in blood; and rays shone from their spears. Helmeted valkyries came down from the sky, the noise of spears grew loud, and they protected the prince with spear and sword.”_

At this, Loki drew forth from his cloak a beautiful sword, silver and gold and lain with amethysts, and presented it to her.

“Long have I sat on my hill, waiting for you day and night," he said. "Now has come to pass that which I hoped for. You have returned, lover, to my hall. No longer need I wait for the fulfillment of my love for you, nor you for my love. Now it is certain that we shall be together for the rest of our lives. I offer to you this token of my soul. With this blade, I will defend you. With my life, I will protect you. I take you into my home and my heart. My roof shall cover you and my hearth shall warm your hands.”

Loki presented the sword to Sigyn and she extended her hands as he placed it in her grasp. Smiling out the corner of her eye at him, Sigyn moved to the tree, crouching in the grass to lean the blade against the trunk. She returned to him, her heart racing, for she had no blade to offer. She was startled when the queen mother laid a hand on her shoulder and even more so when Frigga brought forth an elegant and fierce looking sword, long and slender and wrapped in black leather, trimmed with shining gold and inlaid with glittering emeralds. Sigyn took it in her hands and presented it to Loki.

“At the door of my soul he is standing," Sigyn said, "so sweet in the gleam of his garment. His footfall awakens a fury, a fierceness of love that I knew not, and through me there flashes a thrill that shall age never more. The moon on his brow, it is beaming beneath the bright-litten heaven. So he gleams and gazes with a glance keen as the falcon. Now it is certain that we shall be together for the rest of our lives. I offer to you this token of my soul. With this blade, I will defend you. With my life, I will protect you. I take your home as my home and your heart as my heart. My blood shall carry your blood and my spirit shall carry your spirit.”

Sigyn presented the blade to Loki and he accepted it from her. As she had, Loki smiled at her and approached the great tree, taking a knee to place the blade against the trunk next to its partner. The goði spoke a blessing over the blades, asking for the great tree Yggdrasil to strengthen and protect them. He bowed his head and took Loki’s new blade from its place, passing the black and gold blade to Frigga who held it steady as the goði brought forth two gold bands from his pocket. He placed them on the blade and Frigga moved with him to present the rings to the couple. 

And the goði spoke: “We are warriors, eternal and ever conquering, righteous and just, powerful and strong. Within these two youths flows the blood of two mighty houses. Within these two lovers, the Æsir and Vanir shall be united at last. Your love shall be the love of all and your children the children of a united realm. With these rings you signify to all the realms your unwavering loyalty and fidelity. They stand as a glittering reminder of your life and love. Loki,” the goði turned to the prince, “I have not the right to bind thee to Sigyn. Only you have this right. If it be your wish, make it known and place your ring in her hand.” 

Loki reached out and took the larger of the rings from the blade his mother held and, smiling, placed it firmly in Sigyn’s outstretched hand, “It is my wish.” 

“Sigyn,” the goði turned to her, “If it be your wish for Loki to be bound to you, place the ring on his finger.” Loki extended his hand to her and she gently slid the band onto his finger. “Sigyn,” the goði continued. “I have not the right to bind thee to Loki. Only you have this right. If it be your wish, make it known and place your ring in his hand.” 

Sigyn reached out and took the smaller of the rings from the blade Frigga held and, smiling, placed it resolutely in Loki’s newly bound outstretched hand, “It is my wish.”

“Loki,” the goði said, “If it be your wish for Sigyn to be bound to you, place the ring on her finger.” Sigyn extended her hand and Loki gently slid the band onto her finger. The goði brought forth a thick braided rope. 

And the goði spoke: “With this chord you will be bound in the ways of your ancestors, body to body, blood to blood, soul to soul, and heart to heart. Like the chord which has to ends, you are two people, yet at your center you are one.” He began to wrap the rope around their interlaced hands. “May love and laughter light your days and warm your heart and home. May good and faithful friends be yours wherever you may roam. May peace and plenty grant your world a joy that long endures. And may all life's passing seasons bring the best to you and yours.”

Loki looked at her and with a glowing smile said, “I, Loki, in the name of the spirit that resides within us all, by the life that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take you, Sigyn, to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one. To desire you and be desired by you, to possess you, and be possessed by you, without sin or shame, for naught can exist in my love for you. I promise to love you wholly and completely without restraint, in life and beyond, where we shall meet, remember, and love again.”

Sigyn could not help but smile herself as she said, “I, Sigyn, in the name of the spirit that resides within us all, by the life that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take you, Loki, to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one. To desire you and be desired by you, to possess you, and be possessed by you, without sin or shame, for naught can exist in my love for you. I promise to love you wholly and completely without restraint, in life and beyond, where we shall meet, remember, and love again.”

She could have stayed under that tree with him for the rest of her days, hand in hand within the arms of its branches and the light of the moon. The way he looked at her now, the joy in his eyes, made her glow from the inside out. With the chord wrapped about their clasped hands, she felt more at home than ever before. Her grandfather’s goði, a symbol of her past. The queen mother, a symbol of her new family. Loki, the love of her soul. 

“Love conquers all,” Gebhard finally said with a satisfied smile as Frigga looked on, her son’s blade in her hand. “Let us, too, yield to love. You are now and forever bound.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an additional layer, I imagine the song "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift for Sigyn and Loki's wedding. Enjoy. 
> 
> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	7. Chapter 7

Frigga managed to cast a particularly strong illusion over Loki’s cell, enough to hide the newlyweds’ intimate night from any invasive eyes, a mirage of the prisoner prince sleeping in their place. It was incredible magic, beautiful and marvelous to behold, but nothing more so than Sigyn, his love. His wife. The thought filled him with invigorating life from the moment the goði had bound their hands and the joy had only grown as they entered his newly cloaked chamber. So enthralled was he by his new bride that he barely noticed the changed room. Most of his furniture remained, but in the place of his small chaise was a large, plush bed, laden with soft pillows and thick blankets. The angry glow of the barrier wall had vanished, rendering the small cell dark and serene. He stumbled for a moment, his boot catching the edge of his desk in the lack of light, and he chuckled at his nervousness, Sigyn coyly covering her giggle with her hand. Smiling at him, his hand in hers, she raised an open palm.

Her magic kissed at his skin, warm and soft like golden starlight, and small glimmering blossoms of light floated up from her open hand, branching out in swirling arches to gently light their world. Hers was beautiful magic and it had always amazed him with its simple elegance and quiet splendor, the way it seemed to flow from her, her curls luminous in its golden light and her eyes glittering with blue-gold flecks. Tiny glowing sparks floated all around them when Sigyn took his hands. As he helped her step onto the low bed, Loki spotted her bare feet and smiled, which caught her attention.

“What?” she smiled, playfully pulling her hand back.

He shook his head and, smiling, told her, “I should have expected as much.” Sigyn laughed and motioned him to join her. Loki sat down on their bed, being careful to keep his boots off the soft blankets. Sigyn came around to kneel before him and, taking each foot in her lap, unlaced the leather strappings with care and placed the boots to the side. Much to his own joy, they both wore quite little in regards to clothing, but he was uncertain of where to go next. Sigyn had no shoes, but Loki saw a small pin in her hair, metal flowers made of gold, and he gently pulled if from its place, releasing her curls in a cascading wave. Her golden magic seemed caught even there, a few sparkling specks whispering next to her glowing eyes, and he reached out to touch them. Wonderfully, they vanished just as he met her cheek, his fingers gently brushing the hair from her face. 

The fastenings on her dress were simple and unintimidating. With a single tug, the ribbon was undone and the dress lay in a pile to the side. His tunic and trousers were as easily done away with, joining her gown on the smooth floor as he crawled to join her. True, it was not their first time, but it was only their second and Loki still felt a twinge of nervousness when approaching her. When last they’d met in such intimate embrace he had been still a boy, an innocent child free of his treasons and sins. Did she still feel for him now as she had then, he wondered, and would she soon question her choice at sight of the monster she would bed? A gentle hand wrapped around the nape of his neck and he glanced down to meet her. There was no question in her eyes, no hesitation as she drew him in, and Loki finally abandoned all reservation, placing a sweet kiss on her lips. 

All the pain, suffering, torment, and torture of the last years melted from memory with her in his arms. He forgot blue lights, unseen puppeteers, and legions of Chitari. He forgot his brother’s anguished face, his mother’s saddened eyes, and the Allfather’s cruel words. He forgot the whispers and rumors, the gossip and curses. It all was so meaningless compared to the happiness within him, the happiness of her, of them. If he were not to swallow another bite of food the rest of his days, he knew he would not starve, not with her here. She was his life, his body, his sustenance. He could live off the love she gave him. He had been so lost before her, in the years of her illness and his time on Midgard. At the thought of losing her, he had banished his mind and abandoned reason. When she did not improve, Loki came not to care for his own life. 

But then she had returned to him and Loki could scarcely believe it. She’d touched his face, whispered I love you, ripped the shackles from his battered body, and embraced him for all to see. Sigyn did not care what they said, their lies and malice. As she embraced him now, Sigyn did not fear him. She knew what he had done and why he had done it and she did not fear him. The whole of the nine realms may think him a monster, they may forever hold him in exile and disgrace, but even without their forgiveness he would have the greatest treasure of all. Her. Loki knew, deep in the crevices of his heart, that if he did die along this twisted journey he, too, would not fear it for he knew that one day, if the heavens be just, he would be reunited with her once more. 

Her hands ran over him, soft and sweet, tracing the outlines of his hips and shoulders, running along the pattern of his scars, resting on the nape of his neck and drawing him further in. She was his sanctuary and his salvation. She was glory and life-giving freedom. His goddess, his and his alone. He may be a trickster, a silver tongued snake, and a fallen traitor, but he was free with her, free and loved and endless. Loki was a fool for love and he was entirely happy. 

~*~

Loki’s eyes fluttered open, the soft glow of her golden magic still floating about their makeshift bridal chamber. He reached for his eyes to rub away the haze of sleep, but his arm stopped short and he happily saw it pinned beneath a head of tousled auburn curls. It had become her favorite place, nestled within the crook of his arm with her head buried in his side. Layers of blankets were tangled about them, but in the heat of the night she had broken through, her soft skin seeming to glow before him as she draped her arm and leg overtop his strewn body. Loki knew the illusion would soon vanish; he knew that she would soon have to leave, but for at least a few minutes more he would enjoy this moment and the sight of her wrapped up in him. Unable to resist, he began to run his fingers through her hair, the curls mussed and wild as wheat. 

He froze for a moment when she shifted. Brows furrowed as she let out a small moan in her slumber and Loki set to stroking her hair once more. She resettled and a small smile crept onto her lips, nose nuzzling into his chest. He was not sure how long he lay in peaceful silence watching her sleep undisturbed, but the time passed too quickly and she soon began to wake. First, it was only a roll of her head as she shifted to her back, arm splayed out beside her. Then her face began to pinch and she rubbed a haphazard hand at her nose. Then came the amusing noises, the tiny moans and grunts to announce her awakening. He suspected she had little awareness of this, but soon her eyes were open and she looked up at him with a smile. 

“Good morning,” she mumbled, nestling into his arm.

“Good morning,” Loki replied, drawing her close, “wife.” She smiled at this, happiness even in her groggy eyes. 

“Husband,” she responded, lacing her fingers with his. For a while they did not speak, only laid together in their bed. 

“Do you think we could keep this?” Sigyn asked, dragging her heavy hand along the bed. “It’s much more comfortable than the chaise.” 

Loki laughed, “Are you sure it’s not for more personal reasons?” Sigyn laughed, too, squeezing his arm as she wiggled up to join him. Perching on her elbow, she looked down at him, grey-blue eyes sparkling like gems. 

“And if it is,” she inquired, “would you think less of me?” Loki slipped her elbow and she came tumbling down on top of him, laughing once more.

“My dear, I would think even more of you,” he smiled, running his hand along her cheek. “If that were possible.” He watched as she leaned up to kiss him, placing a dozen sweet gestures on his neck and cheek before wrapping herself in a blanket and crawling over to the table. When she returned she held a bowl of sliced fruit, pears and oranges, and a small loaf of bread in her arms, struggling to hobble back on her knees and tripping over the massive blanket. She near tumbled over him, spilling her load, but he quickly caught her and took the bowl from her full hands. “You need not cover yourself, Sigyn,” he placed the bowl amongst their sheets and guided her over. “I have seen all of you there is to see.” The lady blushed a fierce shade of crimson and shyly tucked a loose curl behind her ear. Loki reached forward and brushed it back, cupping her face in his hand. “You are beautiful,” he told her and her blush faded to a pleasant pink. 

They shared their simple meal, passing back and forth a single goblet of water to share while they talked and laughed. They began to reminisce about the adventures of their youth, the seemingly endless games of hide and seek, wonderful days of horseback riding, and archery competitions. Then they moved to mocking Thor and the Warriors Three with their foolish escapades and witless bragging, though Sigyn defended Sif more than once for being the most reasonable of their bunch. 

“Reasonable?” Loki scoffed, taking a bite of bread. “The girl nearly took my head for what I did to her hair.”

“You nearly shaved her head clean!” Sigyn slapped his arm, taking the water glass from him, and laughed. “She was entirely in the right, if you ask me.” Setting aside his meal, Loki smirked and snatched the glass from her, tossing her to the bed with a playful shove and pinning her beneath him.

“Well,” he grinned, thoroughly pleased with her position, “Nobody asked you, now did they?” They were quick with their fervor, painfully aware of the soon fading illusion, but unable to curb their desire. As she carefully replaced her dress and tied back her tousled hair, Loki gradually grew more downtrodden.

“What’s that face?” she asked, crawling back onto the bed in her burgundy gown and taking his face in her hand. He placed his over hers and drew it to his mouth, placing three long kisses on the soft skin. 

“You’ll come back,” he closed his eyes and absorbed her touch, her smell, her warmth. “Won’t you?” Soon she was wrapped around him, pulling him close though there was little to separate them but a thin blanket. Her shy modesty seemed to have fled. 

“Always,” she whispered in his ear and he held her tighter, burying his face in her dress. “I love you, Loki.”

“I love you, Sigyn,” he replied, leaning up to kiss her. She was gone too soon, the shimmering barrier rising up between them. The guards would soon awake from their trance, but Sigyn remained on the other side of his cell, face close to the wall as possible. He came forward to meet her, redressed in his usual tunic and trousers, his bridegroom attire hidden safely within her cloak. 

“Come back soon,” he smiled at her, raising his hand to the barrier, “wife.” She held hers opposite him, the menial distance aching like a crater. 

“Very soon,” she replied, gazing up at him, “husband.” Then she was gone, her beautiful form vanishing from sight underneath a heliotropiam cloud, and the world seemed that much dimmer, that much duller. Loki returned to their bed and nestled into the evening’s scent, inhaling the sweet smell of sea salt and flowers that seemed to remain whenever she left. His eyes grew heavy and he welcomed sleep, happy to drift off to memories and visions of his love. 

~*~

Sigyn was careful to avoid the more populated halls of Asgard’s great palace, unwilling to shatter the memory of the evening. If she could make it to her bed uninterrupted, she could fall back asleep and imagine she was still with him. Caught in her daydreams, she was unaware that her heliotropiam veiling had grown thin. 

“Sigyn?” a voice called out to her and she was yanked from her fantasies. Startled, she saw Sif coming toward her, fully dressed in her training armor. 

“Sif!” Sigyn gasped, drawing her dark cloak tighter around her and hoping desperately that the warrior did not see her disheveled gown or bundle of men’s clothing. “What are you doing here?” As soon as Sigyn said it she regretted it for Sif’s face grew confused and suspicious.

“I’ve training at sunrise with the others,” she replied. “Same as always. What are you doing here, and so early?”

“I was…” Once again, Sigyn scrambled for a response. “I was in the observatory,” she thought of the towering staircase not far away. “I like to go there when I can’t sleep.”

“Can’t sleep?” Sif’s expression shifted to one of concern. “What’s troubling you?”

“I…” Sigyn looked at the floor. “I don’t sleep much these days.” She knew it wasn’t a lie, but she still felt wrong about hiding the truth from her old friend, even more so when she saw the distressed look on Sif’s face.

“I know what you’ve been through has been unbelievably painful,” the dark-haired warrior placed a gentle hand on Sigyn’s shoulder. “I never expected you of all people to have to suffer such tragedy. I am truly sorry.”

Sigyn offered a weak smile, “Thank you, Sif.”

“But Sigyn,” the lady warrior’s expression grew severe, “You cannot keep pining after him. Loki is changed. He’s no longer the boy you knew.” Sigyn slowly stepped back, Sif’s hand trailing of her shoulder as the two ladies gazed at each other.

“People are not changed so easily, Sif,” Sigyn told her, beginning to make her way back the hallway. “Loki is stronger than you think. Despite the evil he has endured, he is still the man I love.” 

“Just be careful, my friend,” Sif’s eyes flashed with a hint of sorrow. “Damaged things only end up damaging those around them, whether they want to or not.” Sigyn only responded with a solemn nod before disappearing down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an additional layer, I imagine "Work Song" by Hozier for Sigyn and Loki's wedding night. Enjoy.
> 
> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	8. Chapter 8

Sigyn stood politely while the guards heaved open the doors of the queen’s chamber, stepping inside quietly as they closed behind her. 

“You called for me, queen mother?” Sigyn called out, scanning the spacious room for her familiar figure. 

“Over here, dear!” her voice echoed through the rafters, drawing Sign to a massive pile of books and parchments, tapestries and records. Somewhere underneath was the queen’s lovely wooden desk, but it was lost beneath the mountain of materials. 

“My queen?” Sigyn hesitantly peeked around the towering stacks. The queen was hidden behind, her nose buried in an assortment of books, but she looked up at Sigyn with a smile. 

“Come now, my dear,” Frigga motioned with a laugh and Sigyn picked her way over, “join the chaos.” She plopped down beside her, wedged between a thick tome and the leg of the desk. 

“What are you doing, if I might ask?” Sigyn quickly snatched a lose pile of parchments before they tumbled to the floor. 

“Drowning, it would seem,” she replied, taking the pile from Sigyn, “which happens to be why I called for you.”

“How can I assist you?” Sigyn offered, pulling a leather bound tome from beneath her. 

“That one,” the queen pointed to the book in her hand, “open it.” Sigyn examined the book, a large printing of parchment long as her forearm. When she pulled it open she found an ancient collection of writing and immediately held it with an increased gentleness.

“I am not as familiar with ancient texts as I would prefer,” Sigyn admitted, recognizing only a handful of characters and letters. 

“It’s easy to pick up,” the queen assured her, pulling a scribbled note from her desk. “You’ll get it in no time, I’m sure.”

“Am I to be reading many ancient texts soon?” Sigyn asked, wondering what the queen seer’s next lesson would involve. 

“Consider it a crash course,” she smiled, handing Sigyn another two books. “It will help with your studies, but more importantly it may help with something far more personal.”

“Personal?” Sigyn flipped open one of the books and landed on a page filled with a dark scene and shrouded figures. Cloaked in black, they looked to the abyss above, raising their hands to a floating form, a skeletal and corpse-like icon surrounded by a halo of light, and Sigyn suddenly felt unsettled. “What is this?” she muttered, trailing her fingers along the picture.

“Our lead,” Frigga replied. Unbeknownst to the ranks of Asgard, the queen mother had been very busy. Her research was extensive and wide-reaching, covering every inch and variation of myth or legend available, anything that could provide possible explanation for her son’s uncharacteristic actions. She’d touched near every realm of the great Yggdrasil in her search, but had now requested the assistance of her new daughter-in-law. Sigyn was more than eager to contribute and soon they were back to their familiar scene, the master and her student nose deep in study. First came what they already knew: the Chitari. Thor had been clear about their involvement in the attack on Midgard, how Loki had commanded them with a device of some sort, a scepter that radiated a distinctive blue light. This, Sigyn was uneasily familiar with. 

“You’ve seen this before?” the queen mother pointed to an image in one of the great tomes, a halo of blue light surrounding an eerie face. 

“Yes,” Sigyn nodded, ashamed that she’d hidden it from Frigga for so long, “In my nightvisions. I believe I foresaw what happened on Midgard. From what Thor has described, I seemed to have witnessed precise instances of Loki’s attacks.” 

“What did you see, child?” Frigga leaned forward, placing a gentle hand on Sigyn’s shoulder once she saw the suffering in her daughter’s face. 

“Blue light,” Sigyn forced a whisper, closing her eyes against the painful memories. “It was all around him, coming from him, angry and horrible. When he returned in Thor’s custody, when I went to him in the throne room, I saw it then, too. The same blue light was poisoning his body and mind, infecting him like a disease.” The queen leaned back on her ankles until she finally rested against the wall, her face wane with sorrow. “My queen, what is it?” Sigyn begged, growing more and more afraid.

“I’m not sure,” she said, “but this is ancient magic, the likes of which have not been seen in my lifetime.” 

They spend days in Frigga’s study, piles of books growing like a forest around them. The queen would send Sigyn to the library each day to fetch new materials and each day Sigyn would return to add to their stacks. Little by little, they unearthed a common thread among the writings. The blue light of her nightmares was not an unknown force. It was mentioned in dozens of stories, legends, myths, and accounts. Finally, they came across a term that stopped Frigga in her tracks. 

“Thor,” the queen interrupted their momentum and pulled a book to her lap, “He mentioned a scepter. Loki used it to control those around him, yes?”

“Ah, yes,” Sigyn scrambled to dig out a piece of parchment with her scribbled handwriting. Reading the names off the list, she reported, “At least three mortals, according to Thor. Three men: one he did not know, one named Erik Selvig, and another named Clint Barton.” Frigga let out a shaky sigh, hands falling weak in her lap. “Mother, what is it?” 

“It is an infinity stone,” Frigga muttered. The room was unnaturally quiet without their constant page flipping as the two women sat in silence. Sigyn had heard of such things before, not that it was common knowledge among most of the masses, but she had never expected such a realization. 

“Are you sure?” It seemed foolish to ask, but Sigyn was in a state of disbelief.

“I can’t be certain,” Frigga set aside the book, “but I feel it strongly. We should move forward with this.” Sigyn nodded and dove back into her books. The next days progressed slowly, as did the following weeks and the remainder of the month, but they did not sway from their path. One day, while elbow deep in a stack of Asgardian myth, Sigyn stumbled across a name she did not recognize, and then again another name she had not seen. As it was late in the night, Sigyn waiting until the next day to bring the information to the queen.

“This I do know,” Frigga said and turned to take a book from the shelf. She laid it on the table and flipped open the great cover, landing on a page with a bloodthirsty looking figure. “His name is Thanos, the Mad Titan.” 

“Thanos?” Sigyn mumbled, reaching forward to examine the depiction. He had a sick smile on his face, twisted and cruel, and it unnerved her. Then she spotted it, the horrible blue light of her nightmares. It came from his closed fist. “The light,” she whispered, drawing her hand back. 

“These, however,” Frigga looked at the rest of the words Sigyn had brought for inspection and furrowed her brows, “I am not familiar with anyone by these names, but I know the translations.” She pulled down a small journal from her shelf and flipped to a hand-scrawled note. “Here,” she pointed to the page and Sigyn came around to look. 

“Andlát, Bani, Dauði, Fjǫrlag,” Sigyn recited, reading down the list, recognizing the ones she had found. After the first four, she had no idea how to pronounce the words. They were in dozens of languages, ones she had never seen. “What does it all mean?” she asked, watching the queen’s face intently.

Frigga looked up at her and responded, “Death.”

Unsure of what to say, Sigyn opted for sarcasm, “Seems a bit morbid.” Frigga chuckled and patted Sigyn’s shoulder. 

“True,” she smiled, replacing the book to the shelf, “but this is something I am unfamiliar with. I know of no figure that claims these names, nor much about the Mad Titan beyond thin myth. For now, all we can assume is that this blue light, infinity stone or not, is an extremely powerful source of manipulative magic. No matter the strength of the mind, it is safe to assume that all are susceptible. As such, we must prepare accordingly.”

“How?” Sigyn’s interest peaked. She was greatly invested in any methods she could use to help Loki. Frigga approached her with a black, leather bound book in her hands and held it out to Sigyn. She attempted to take it, but the queen did not release it at first, instead drawing Sigyn’s gaze with solemn severity. 

“Be warned, child,” her voice was grave and her eyes heavy, “I do not offer you this easily. Within these pages is powerful magic, dark magic. It has the power to distort the mind, toy with the senses. Many a great seer has lost their sanity to the spells contained within and I would not see you fall to the same tragic end, but I have faith in you. I see a strength in you that I have not seen in any other and I believe the love you share with my son will guide you. My dear,” she gripped Sigyn’s hands around the book, “prove me right.”

~*~

Sigyn spent days interpreting the spells in the ancient tome and, as Frigga had astutely observed, she picked up the language quickly, tearing through five or six thick books in a single afternoon. As Frigga had also observed, the magic in these spells was powerful, more powerful than anything Sigyn had ever encountered. At this point she had only attempted simpler spells, those for defensive purposes against attacks of the mind and spirit. She had little way of knowing if they were affective, though, and became frustrated with the seemingly meaningless progress she was making. Loki was already infected. Defensive spells would do nothing for him now. What she needed were offensive spells to attack the magic living within him like a parasite. So, Sigyn turned her attention to combat magic, the most powerful of all the spells. 

She started out small at first, casting a nonthreatening infection of the mind into the air and dissolving it with her magic before it had the chance to seek out a host. Gradually, Sigyn allowed it to grow stronger, putting off destroying it until it had built up more strength against her. Still, it would not be enough. The magic that flowed through Loki’s mind was not a small infection; it was vast, intricate, and resilient. It was strong, but not as strong as her, not as strong at them. She increased her power each day, allowing the infectious disease to grow stronger in front of her, waiting until the last possible moment to attack it and she grew confident. 

A knock came at her door and Sigyn quickly dissolved her experiment, stuffing the dark magic tome into the folds of her bedding before calling for them to enter. 

“Lady Sigyn,” the guard announced, “The Allfather requests your presence.” Her heart thumped in her chest and she could feel her throat tighten. Had the king discovered her practices? Had he found her out, and the queen? A million scenarios ran through her mind as the guard escorted her to the throne room. She had no idea what to say should the old king confront her about her experiments. As she walked up the long hall to his throne her heart beat faster, until she came to stand before him, his ever-watchful eye fixed upon her, and her hands grew warm. 

“You summoned me, Allfather,” she bowed her head and waited for his response. 

“Young lady,” the king held Gungnir in his fist as he gazed down at her, “Over the millennia, your family has served the house of Asgard with honor and dignity, you yourself displaying an unmatched sense of loyalty and fidelity uncommon among many of the noble ranks. Your courage and bravery, as I have said before, seem to know no bounds and for this you have been granted a great many privileges.”

“I am eternally grateful for the kindness of the royal house, my king,” Sigyn replied, bowing her head once more. “You have bestowed upon me many of the joys of my life.”

“And also the strife,” the Allfather added. “First, the fall of your grandfather’s house -”

“My grandfather is more than satisfied with the alliance between our houses,” Sigyn interjected, hoping not to overstep her boundaries. 

“Yes,” the king nodded, “I am aware, but nonetheless it greatly affected the course of your life. Now, with Loki gone, your life is upheaved once more. For this I am sorry.”

“But Loki is not gone, my king,” Sigyn answered, confused by the king’s words. “He is returned to us, though not wholly.”

“Here you are wrong,” the Allfather corrected her and Sigyn grew nervous. “The Loki of your youth is gone. That boy no longer exists. The man imprisoned in that cell is no longer the man you hoped to marry. He is a criminal and he shall be treated as such.” Sigyn’s blood began to boil, her fists clenching at her side. 

“With all due respect, my king,” she held back her rage, “There is far more to the situation than most in Asgard are willing to admit. If you would only listen to what Loki has to say, I am sure that you would -”

“Admirable as your loyalty is,” the king held up his hand to stop her, “it is misplaced. I would advise you to take care, Lady Sigyn. There are a great many things in this world that will hurt us if we allow them to.” Sigyn’s rage flared.

“Loki would never hurt me,” she grumbled. 

“And how do you know that?” the Allfather asked, looking down at her with knowing eyes. “I am well aware of your visits to his cell, Lady Sigyn.” Her heart caught in her through, the heat rising in her face. “Though I am still unaware of how you’ve managed to accomplish this feat or what it is you've been doing. I’ve tolerated the impudence up to this point, but I can ignore it no longer. Your visits will cease, Lady Sigyn, or I will stop them myself.” For a moment they stood in opposition, the old king and the young lady, staring at each other across space and intensity. Though she should fear for her life at the idea that the Allfather was aware of her criminal acts, Sigyn only felt anger toward the old king. 

“Though it is not my place,” she growled through clenched teeth, “I feel I must voice my thoughts. The manner in which you speak about your son is disgraceful, my king, no matter your station.” She might as well have signed her execution slip then, but the king did not seem to crave her death, at least not yet. She still had plenty of venom to spew. 

“You are right, lady,” the Allfather glowered down at her. “It is not your place. You forget, I am the one who first arranged your betrothal.”

“Believe me, Allfather,” she clenched her fists, the rage threatening to overrun her, and she knew she could no longer hold it in. “I have not forgotten. I have not forgotten how you granted me such happiness, happiness I had never known, never hoped to have, never dreamed I could have. You gave it to me and then you ripped it from my grasp!” she wailed, fists clenched tight and eyes burning with rage. “Forgive me if I feel slighted,” she growled. “If I feel betrayed by my king.”

“And what of your tricks?” the old king rose from his throne to interrogate her. “What if there had been an attack, an outbreak in the prisons? What then as the guards lay useless because you could not curb your selfless desires!”

“Selfish?” she gaped, taking a step back, but her anger soon returned. “Is it selfish for a wife to want to see her husband?”

Odin slammed Gungnir into the floor, sending a silencing echo through the desolate throne room, “You are not his wife!”

“I AM HIS WIFE!” Sigyn howled, her voice drowning out the sound of his spear. This time, it was the king who fell silent, staring at Sigyn with horrified shock. She knew what she had done, the disrespect she had committed in the face of the great king, but somehow she didn’t care. Fists clenched at her side, nails threatening to tear her skin, and glare burrowing into the old king’s soul, Sigyn stared up at him, eyes swimming with bloodlust. “And if you attempt to keep him from me,” she growled, throat burning, “I will take what is mine as my ancestors did.” 

Sigyn left the throne room and Odin, the guards closing the doors behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	9. Chapter 9

Loki’s fist tightened around a scrap of parchment, crumpling whatever nondescript scribble he’d hastily written inside, but he soon sank back into his chair at the realization that it was only another guard marching past his cell. He returned to flipping mindlessly through his journal, not even reading, only half paying attention to the collage of sketches and lists. Sigyn had not visited him for seven nights now and if not for his mother’s daily visits he would have already lost his mind. The queen had assured him that Sigyn was well and had not fallen into illness once more. The pair of ladies had merely sensed an increased danger in the new bride’s visits and were attempting to alleviate any suspicion. 

Though it had only been a few days, Loki could feel her absence weighing on him. Each day new prisoners were brought to the deep keep of Asgard’s golden palace, criminals from all over the nine realms paraded past his cell. How pathetic they all were, how small-minded and dim-witted. They knew nothing of madness and chaos, mayhem and mischief. The fun he could have with just a few of them, how the nobles would scatter and flee at the sight of such vulgar and filthy creatures. Loki chuckled at the thought, thinking of how Sigyn would attempt to hide her laughter and then scold him for the harmless disorder he’d caused. Perhaps she’d flash her disapproving scowl at him, her brows pinching together and her grey-blue eyes narrowing. 

For the moment, he’d grown uninterested in his studies, far too distracted with waiting in anticipation for Sigyn and becoming disheartened by the lack of progress he was making. His mother said that she and Sigyn had discovered some information, but it was riddled with confusion and mystique. She’d shared a name with him, Thanos. It induced no recollection from him, neither did the list of unrecognizable terms she’d produced. Bani, Fjǫrlag, only gibberish, nothing more. Nothing seemed to work and his frustration grew with poisonous ferocity. News of his unfortunate parentage had spread like a foul odor through the Asgard’s halls, despite the king’s efforts to hide the undesirable reality. Few people knew for certain the truth of Loki’s birth, but that did not stop the growing disgust toward Asgard’s fallen prince. 

He’d contemplated trying to tell them, trying to explain to the Allfather what had happened, hoping that somehow the old king would listen to his unbelievable reason, but any request he’d made to speak with the king had gone unanswered. Eventually, he stopped asking. Loki had come to the conclusion that perhaps the king was happy to be rid of him, the son he never wanted, the relic that had never served its purpose. Loki tossed aside his quill, the tip long dry from hovering useless in his hand. Letting out a sigh, Loki ran his hands through his hair. It had grown long these last few years, but he enjoyed the freedom of it. 

The air shifted, his cell adjusting for the disruption. Immediately, Loki was on edge, moving slowly toward the golden barrier. He peeked out to inspect the hallway, making only the slightest movements so as not to bring the guards’ attention. 

“Sigyn?” he whispered. “Sigyn, are you there?” There was no answer, only silence, and Loki’s heart fell once more. She still had not come. 

“You’ve grown lazy in your sabbatical,” a coy voice cooed from over his shoulder and Loki smirked, turning round to face her. “How easily your senses soften, dear husband,” Sigyn grinned, the veiling disappearing with a glimmer. 

“Any would prove meager when compared to your rapidly increasing skill, dear wife,” he smiled in return, approaching her. “I see my mother’s lessons are affective. What has she been teaching you?” He reached for the curl on her shoulder and saw her face pinch as if she felt discovered, but her expression quickly shifted to one of amusement and she grasped his other hand. 

“It’s a secret,” she whispered with a smirk. “Besides, I’ll not have you learning my secrets and passing me up whilst locked behind prison bars. How would that make me look?” Loki wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, kissing her forehead. 

“Beautiful,” he smiled down at her, “as always.” For a while they stood embracing, her head tucked into the crook of his neck and his hand running down her curls. “Is the illusion holding?” he asked, twisting a lock around his finger. She mumbled a confirmation into his neck and he brought her face to his, placing a kiss on her warm lips. Her body pressed into his, arms wrapped around his neck, and she let out a quiet moan which only encouraged his burning desire. It was as if she was tempting him with her simple dress and its minimal ties. It would be so easy to rid her of it and she seemed more than eager to comply, she herself tugging at his trousers. 

A rain of powder dusted from the ceiling, the walls of his cell shaking ever so slightly as something disrupted the prison. They parted, both staring at the ceiling as something far above rumbled. Soon, it ceased, but Loki did not let go of Sigyn and she kept her arms wrapped around his chest. 

“What was that?” she muttered, grey-blue eyes scanning the ceiling. 

“No idea,” Loki replied. Outside, a trio of guards rushed past his cell, spears in hand as they raced up the stairs and disappeared. 

“Perhaps I should leave,” Sigyn mumbled, pulling away. He clutched her tighter, unwilling to lose her so soon. 

“No, please,” he begged, almost ashamed of the desperation in his voice. Almost. “Please don’t go.” The look on her face was both heart wrenching and heartwarming, how she reached for him and came to rest beneath his chin. 

“I will be back,” she whispered, lacing her fingers through his. “I promise. I won’t lose you again.”

“Nor I you,” he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Return soon.” 

~*~

The hallway outside the infirmary was rippling with energy, handfuls of people racing in and out the great gold doors. Sigyn was nearly trampled by a frantic healer, the young girl apologizing before scampering away with an armful of bottles. She was able to scoot around the guards, but slammed into an armored chest before she could make it through the doors. 

“Sigyn?” Thor looked down at her in confusion. 

“Thor!” she replied, straightening the skirts of her dress. The elder prince helped set right the young lady as healers slammed the door behind him. “What’s wrong?” Sigyn asked, the prince visibly shaken. “I thought I saw the Allfather inside. Is he well?”

“Him? Yes,” Thor shook his head, “Yes, he is fine. It’s…it’s someone else. A friend.”

“Sif?” Sigyn’s heart began to pound in her chest.

“No!” Thor shook his hands, “No, not Sif. She is perfectly fine. It is an acquaintance of mine from Midgard. Her name is Jane.”

“Jane?” Sigyn tried to sneak a peek inside when a healer came rushing out, but the doors closed before she could catch a glimpse of one of Thor’s new Midgardian comrades. “Is she the warrior they call Black Widow?”

“Jane?” Thor seemed startled. “No, she is not an Avenger. She is…a friend.” Sigyn grew suspicious of the elder prince’s strange behavior, the way he paced and ran his hand through his tousled golden hair, and especially his choice of words. He seemed determined not to say for certain who this woman was. More importantly, his actions seemed to speak for him. Nervous pacing, worried expression, jittery hands, red-rimmed eyes. She’d seen it all before, on her when Loki had been hospitalized after her kidnapping. There was something between him and this Jane that he was not sharing. Feeling a twinge of sympathy, Sigyn placed a hand on the prince’s broad shoulder. 

“I’ll ask the queen,” she assured him and he seemed to relax a bit, “If anyone can help your friend, I am sure it is your mother.” After some passionate convincing from Thor, the guards allowed Sigyn into the infirmary where she found Odin parting from Frigga and a frazzled looking brunette. Sigyn quickly backed against the wall as the king passed, lowering her head both out of expectation and fear. She had not seen the king since she’d shouted at him in the throne room, but he paid her no mind as he left the infirmary. 

“Sigyn, my dear,” Frigga called out to her, motioning her over. “I’d like for you to meet someone. This is Jane Foster of Midgard.” The brunette woman extended her hand with a nervous smile.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, hand held out. Sigyn stared at it, unsure of what to do. The lady seemed to detect her uncertainty and lowered her arm, obviously embarrassed. 

“And it is a pleasure to meet you,” Sigyn responded, looking to the queen for explanation. Why was a Midgardian woman in the royal infirmary, and why was Thor so on edge? This was all so strange. 

“Jane, dear,” Frigga placed a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder, “Would you give us a moment?” 

“Oh,” Jane looked back and forth between the two women and gave a shaky nod. “Sure. I’ll just be over…yeah.” The woman fled to the other side of the room, standing awkwardly while Sigyn spoke with the queen.

“My queen, what is going on?” Sigyn asked, glancing over at the Midgardian woman. “I sense a strange energy on her, something dark and unsettling. Is she a seiðr of some kind?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Frigga replied, stealing a glance at the woman. “She has been infected by a malicious energy, a dark aether.”

“Aether?” Sigyn caught herself stumbling back, amazed that the woman was still conscious. “How is that possible?”

“We do not know,” the queen explained, “but I want you to keep an eye on her.”

“Me?” Sigyn asked, confused. What could she possibly do? She had far more important things with which to fill her time. 

“Yes,” Frigga confirmed. “The Allfather is displeased with her presence here. He and Thor are near blows on the matter. For the moment, Odin has allowed her to remain while we investigate further, but I don’t want her left alone. Her condition could turn foul at any moment and I would prefer someone with healing abilities be with her if that were to happen.”

“What is it exactly that you want me to do?” Sigyn watched the strange woman as she shuffled out the way of two healers. 

“I want you to keep her company,” Frigga said. “She’s quite understandably confused and frightened. This is all very new to her, but we need her to remain calm, lest the aether react negatively. Can you do this for me?” Sigyn stole another glance at the Midgardian woman, Jane, watching as she stared awestruck at the soul forge in the center of the room, curiously poking at the device. She seemed harmless and extremely inquisitive, something Sigyn admired. 

“Of course,” she finally said, turning to the queen. “Anything for you, mother.” 

Frigga smiled, gripping Sigyn’s hand, “Thank you, dear daughter.”

As they strode through the halls later that day, Sigyn found herself at a loss for words. The Midgardian woman said little to her, perhaps afraid she would insult or embarrass Sigyn, but Sigyn was far more uncomfortable with the lack of conversation. It made everything incredibly tense.

“The Queen Mother has asked me to act as your guide during your stay with us,” Sigyn finally announced, garnering the lady’s attention. “If there is anything you should need, please do not hesitate to ask.” 

“Oh, well,” the woman stammered, tucking a dark lock behind her ear, “Thanks.” 

“I apologize for the suddenness of the situation,” Sigyn offered as they turned the corner. “The queen is a busy woman, as can be expected, and it would seem Prince Thor is in high demand. I’m afraid I’m not the traditional choice when it comes to welcoming new guests.” 

“The queen seemed confident in your hostess abilities,” Jane grinned and Sigyn smiled. “So you must be good.” 

“I would hope so,” Sigyn replied. For the first few days, Sigyn would fetch Jane from her chamber. They resided in the same wing of the palace and the queen had made sure that Jane was placed near Sigyn’s room. Unsure of what to do, Sigyn simply did what she would have done any other day to busy herself, visiting the library and gardens of the palace. This seemed to entertain Jane greatly, who was wildly fascinated with the rows of books in Asgard’s great library. Among other things, Sigyn made sure that Jane was well fed and frequently shared meals with her when Thor was unavailable. 

“This is really good!” Jane exclaimed as she scooped up another spoonful of stew. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Sigyn smiled, passing her a small basket of bread. “It is one of my specialties, though I’m sure your hunger fuels your compliments. Anything would likely taste delicious after such stress.”

“I didn’t think nobility would have to cook for themselves,” Jane admitted, taking a sip from her glass.

“Generally, no,” Sigyn explained, “but it is a dish my grandfather oft made for me as a child. It is a comfort.”

“Oh, I know all about comfort food,” Jane laughed, “I’m an expert on that.” The two exchanged smiles and continued with their meal, sunlight pouring through from the open balcony. Jane was a kind woman, intelligent and quick-witted, albeit a bit obvious at times, but Sigyn had come to appreciate the woman’s strange quirks, the casual way she spoke and the nervous laughter that often escaped her. She was beginning to see why Thor was so infatuated. She seemed a perfect match for him. “I’m sure your husband appreciates your cooking, too,” Jane said, reaching for the water pitcher, and Sigyn fumbled with her spoon, clanging the silver against her plate.

“What?” she stuttered, staring in horror at the Midgardian woman.

“You’re married, right?” Jane asked, pointing to Sigyn’s left hand. Looking down, Sigyn cursed at the sight of her simple gold band. Sentimental as it was, she had hoped that wearing several other pieces would mask the one on her ring finger. “I guess I don’t know if the traditions are the same here,” Jane continued, taking a bite from her bread. 

“Yes,” Sigyn finally said, “but he is…” She wasn’t exactly sure what to say. Should she tell the Midgardian woman about her husband, about who he was? Was it wise to do so? She was surprised to see such a terrified and sorrowful expression on Jane’s face when she met her gaze.

“Oh,” the woman stared as Sigyn. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Was it in a war?” Sigyn shook her head.

“Oh, no,” she corrected her. “He is not dead.” After debating silently for a moment, she added, “He is imprisoned.”

“Oh,” Jane dropped her gaze and stared at her stew. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Sigyn assured her. “As you said, you did not know.” They ate in awkward silence for the next few minutes before Jane attempted to break it.

“So, uh, how did you two meet?” she asked, tearing off another piece of bread. 

“Here in the palace,” Sigyn answered, taking a sip of wine. “I visited the royal family many times throughout my childhood.”

“The royal family?” the woman nearly dropped her food and Sigyn met her concerned gaze. “Wait…” Jane stared at her, eyes suddenly swelling. “Are you married to Thor?”

“No! Gods, no!” Sigyn shook her head, “Thor is like a brother to me. I could never.” Jane still seemed confused.

“But you said royal,” she said, pointing at Sigyn with her spoon.

“I did,” Sigyn confirmed. “There is more than one prince of Asgard.” At this, Jane’s eyes threatened to pop from her head altogether. 

“You mean…” the woman stared at her, face suddenly washed white. “Holy shit.”

“That is the general reaction these days,” Sigyn took a bite from her stew.

“You – you’re married to Loki?” Jane stammered, staring at Sigyn as if she’d sprouted horns.

“Yes.”

Jane looked down at the table, “Wow.”

“You are surprised by this?” Sigyn asked, her anger regrettably beginning to surface. “Is a woman not allowed to marry?”

“Well, yeah, but,” Jane attempted to retract her steps, “Loki. I mean, he’s crazy. I mean! Wait, I didn’t mean that. I…” Sigyn could see the woman’s embarrassment before it even surfaced and she suddenly felt guilty for her misguided rage.

“It’s alright,” she offered a token smile, “You did not know him before his madness. I did and that is the man I love.” Jane’s brows furrowed.

“Even after everything he did?” she asked. “He attacked a town of innocent people, not to mention an entire city, even his own brother.”

“I cannot expect you to understand my relationship with Loki or why he did what he did,” Sigyn tried to remain reasonable. “I can only say that, despite his appearances and his actions, Loki is still the man I fell in love with and I will not abandon him as everyone else has.” The Midgardian seemed intrigued by this, perhaps even puzzled, but Sigyn did not expect what she said next.

“That’s really loyal of you,” Jane said. 

“Loyal,” Sigyn clenched her fist under the table, “seems to be the only word anyone will allow me.”

“I mean it,” Jane said, her voice far more confident than before, and Sigyn thought she saw a flicker of respect in her brown eyes. “With everything you’ve gone through, you must be really strong.” It was in that moment that Sigyn truly felt a kinship with this Midgardian woman, Jane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	10. Chapter 10

Whatever had happened in the palace and whoever was responsible for it, Loki swore then and there that he’d personally strangle them. Sigyn had not returned for three nights now, even the queen had ceased her visits, and Loki had torn near every page from his books in his frenzied state of cabin fever and physical deprivation. Even more horrifying was waking up the last night from a haunting dream, a whisper of a shadow of blue light tickling at his memory. He’d nearly screamed. He needed Sigyn; he needed her there. Without her, he feared what would become of his sanity. He was on the verge of becoming what they all expected he was, and Loki wanted nothing more than to prove them wrong, but he was growing weak. There was no saying how long he would last. 

His cell grew smaller each day, the walls seeming to close in gradually with each changing of the guard. The irritating glow of the barrier flickered and snapped with surges of energy, each time grating on Loki’s nerves. He began twitching and pacing, wringing his hands and biting his fingernails to nubs. He’d even noticed an unsettling amount of loose hair on his pillow when he woke from fitful sleep. His lips were torn and cracked, dried blood crusted into the creases, and he’d resorted to constant illusion to mask his embarrassing state. He feared when Sigyn did return that she would be repulsed by his appearance and this only stressed him more so. Almost immediately he would banish the thought from his conscious, reminding himself that Sigyn had made her feelings very clear. After everything she’d endured, she was hardly in it simply for Loki’s looks. 

Still, Loki found himself becoming more and more manic in her absence. He only wished she would visit for a moment, only an hour if that was all could be spared. He wished his mother would visit, wanting more than anything to retract what he had said to her only days ago. He’d been hysterical, mad from stress and sleep loss; he hadn’t realized what he was saying until it was too late, and the look on her face had rendered him a child once more, his heart bleeding pain and regret. An apology would hardly suffice, but he wanted her to know he was a fool, an arrogant and selfish child. No matter his twisted parentage, she was his mother and he would beg her forgiveness the next time she came.

“Knock knock, traitor,” a haughty voice cackled behind him and Loki could feel the vein in his temple twitch. Turning around, he saw a single guard standing at the front of his cell, just outside the barrier wall. “So you do still understand civilized speech, then?” the guard sneered, tossing his spear to his left hand. “I’d half figured you’d forgotten.”

“I’m quite certain the Allfather instructed you not to speak to me,” Loki offered a polite smile laced with poison. The guard was young, a vibrant youth obviously pleased with his newly appointed position in the royal prisons, but he was cocky. 

“The Allfather also entrusted me with your keeping,” the guard dug his spear into the floor, “and I see it as my noble duty to make sure that you are justly punished for your treasonous actions.” 

“Admirable as it is to see a young guard investing in his position so adamantly,” Loki slowly stepped around to face him, “I think you’re a bit out of your depths with this prisoner.” 

“Oh, yes,” the guard arched his head, laughing, “Loki the Liesmith, Silver-Tongued Trickster, God of Mischief. All pretty titles, but where do they leave you now? Behind bars, humiliated and cast aside like the disgrace you are. Your sharp words do you little in here, and even less out there.” His smile turned vicious, “That pretty thing of yours wanders the halls unguarded now.” Loki’s blood swelled with rage. “She is a fine thing, isn’t she? How long do you think she’ll last without you there to hold her hand?”

Loki knew the barrier was there, he knew the aggressive power surging through the glittering wall, but he threw his fist into it all the same, pale skin sizzling against the burning lines. He wanted to rip the fool’s throat out, watch him thrash on the floor and scramble for blood-filled breath. The boy had no idea who he was dealing with, the fire he was stoking to life, and Loki would be more than happy to help him come to this realization. But the wall remained, searing to the touch, and Loki stood unable to exact his revenge, much to the young guard’s delight. 

“I’ll be sure to send an apology of my own her way soon,” the youth sneered at Loki as he strode away. “I’m sure she’s quite lonely these days.” Loki memorized the young guard’s face, the unique nicks and scratches on his armor, and the gait of his stride. He committed it all to permanent memory. If he ever did get out of this wretched cell, that one would be the first to die. 

~*~

Sigyn was growing suspicious of her fellow nobles, their foul snarks and piercing sidelong glances not having receded at all in the long years since Loki’s physical and metaphorical fall from grace. It only made her want to return to his side that much quicker, but whatever issue that existed between Thor and Odin seemed to not have been resolved, and Sigyn was sentenced to continue her babysitting of the Midgardian woman, Jane. Luckily, Thor had made himself far more available in the last few days, granting Sigyn a few hours of peaceful solitude, but without a set schedule, as well as the queen’s direct order to remain available, Sigyn was unable to return to the prisons. She’d considered a message of some kind, a note perhaps, but that would only provide physical proof of her presence in the prisons and she’d rather Odin and Frigga remain the only ones aware of her visits to Loki. 

Unfortunately, for the moment, Sigyn was with Jane and they sat in the woman’s drawing room wasting time. Sigyn had avoided bringing books along, though that would have been her preferred method of distraction, because Jane had developed a rather annoying habit of asking unending questions about what Sigyn was reading. It practically ruined the sanctity of the thing, so Sigyn resigned to sketching, her doodles apparently uninteresting to the Midgardian woman, for which she was grateful. 

A roar of voices echoed into their room as dozens of armored feet pounded past their doors. Both women cautiously rose from their chairs, Sigyn setting aside her charcoals to walk to the door and Jane habitually following behind her. When she slipped the door open, Sigyn nearly lost her head to a guard’s drawn sword, a platoon of soldiers racing past shouting and yelling orders. 

“Did they say prison?” Jane shoved her head out over Sigyn’s shoulder, almost toppling her. 

“Stay here,” Sigyn told her, already planning the most discreet route to Loki’s cell, but as she slipped into the hall, the Midgardian fell in behind her. “I told you stay!” Sigyn shouted at her, lowering her voice as a group of guards rushed past. 

“I might be able to help, though!” Jane threw a strange looking sleeved-cloak over her dress.

“I can assure you that you won’t be,” Sigyn motioned back to the room. “Go back and stay there. It’s safer.”

“How come you get to leave, huh?” Jane protested, feet planted firmly on the hallway floor. Sigyn’s rage swelled, her power surging within her blood. 

“Because I am a seiðr!” she shouted at the woman, who stumbled back against the wall with a look of terrified shock, “and you are infected by a dark magic. You would prove only a burden or, worse, further endanger the situation!”

“I’m not going back there,” the woman insisted, putting herself between Sigyn and her path.

“You’re in my way,” Sigyn growled at her, gold sparks leaping from her fingertips.

“Then move me,” Jane glowered back with obstinate brown eyes. Sigyn’s blood boiled, her skin crawling with power as she reached for the woman. 

“Fine,” she spat, grasping for her strange sleeve. “I don’t have time for this -” 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Frigga came hustling down the hall and Sigyn dropped her arm, gold magic fading as the queen approached. “You wouldn’t like the results, my dear.”

“Queen Mother,” Sigyn bowed her head, ashamed of how Frigga had found her. “I was only assisting the Lady Jane back to her chambers.”

“I highly doubt she desired any assistance,” the queen smirked at her, “but you need not worry. I’ve come to collect her myself.”

“Wait, collect me?” Jane stammered, glancing back and forth between the two ladies. “What does -?”

“There’s been an outbreak in the prisons,” the queen reported, dismissing her two guards. “Thor has gone to contain the skirmish, but the Allfather has requested that I take you to my chambers where there is heavier guard.”

“Heavier guard?” Jane’s face flashed with concern. “That’s not at all reassuring.”

“There’s no need to worry,” the queen said again. “As I said there -” Out of nowhere, the palace walls shook and quaked, an earth rattling crash echoing through the golden halls. Sigyn tumbled against Jane, the woman curling into her for protection as clouds of dust fell from the ceiling. 

“What was that?” Jane exclaimed. A trio of guards came barreling down the hall, grinding to a halt in front of them. 

“My queen,” one of them bowed, his chest heaving, “We must insist you move somewhere safer. The palace has been breached!” 

“Breached?” Jane acted as if she’d never heard the word. 

“By what, exactly?” the queen inquired. 

“An enemy ship,” the soldier reported. “One we have not seen before. Heimdall managed to eliminate one, but several others made it through.”

“How did they make it past the force field?” Sigyn asked, thinking of the great golden barrier that would form as a dome over the palace in times of war.

“The force field has been destroyed,” the soldier responded, his face wash with fear. Sigyn’s heart caught in her throat. Destroyed? That wasn’t possible. She’d seen the device herself. It was impenetrable, its workings housed in one of the most secure portions of the palace. Few knew where and none should have been able to dismantle it. 

“I will take Jane with me to my chambers,” Frigga commanded, ordering the soldiers to assist in the defense of the city. “Sigyn, find Sif. Find out what’s going on and do what you can to reestablish the force field.”

“Me?” Sigyn gaped, shocked by the queen’s trust in her.

“Yes, you,” she placed a sturdy hand on her shoulder. “I need the finest minds in Asgard on my side. See to it that the barrier is fixed.”

“Yes, mother,” Sigyn nodded with confidence.

"That's my girl," Frigga smiled, and Sigyn watched as the queen and Jane strode away.

“Listen to me now. I need you to do everything I ask,” Frigga spoke calmly to the woman, her voice trailing away, “No questions.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jane replied and they disappeared from sight. Soldiers tore around every corner as Sigyn dashed through the halls, driving her way further into the palace toward the throne room. Underneath in a hidden chamber lay the force field’s generator. If the barrier was down the device must have been damaged. She only hoped that an engineer had left his tools in the chamber, otherwise she would be out of luck. Skidding around the corner, Sigyn collided with Sif, the two women stumbling back in surprise.

“Sigyn!” Sif reached out for her friend as Sigyn picked up the blade the warrior had dropped. “What are you doing here? You should be somewhere safe.”

“I could say the same to you,” Sigyn replied, eliciting a humored snort from the warrior. “I’m on my way to the throne room. The queen asked me to -”

“The queen?” Sif asked. “I just saw her with the mortal.”

“Jane, yes,” Sigyn corrected her. “She was with me, but I must get to the generator chamber.”

“Right,” Sif said, spear in hand. “We must get the force field operational.”

“We?” Sigyn smirked and Sif raced down the hallway.

“Do whatever you can to get it back up!” she called out, a troop of soldiers trampling behind her, “and Sigyn!” She glanced back at the dark-haired warrior. “Be careful.”

Sigyn smiled, “You too, Sif.”

“I’m not the one you should worry about,” Sif sneered, turning her back to Sigyn. “Your blade skills have suffered as of late, old friend. Too distracted by your books.” The knife Sif had dropped during their collision dug into the column near to her head, blade buried two inches deep in the marble post. Sif stumbled to the side, glaring at the knife in confusion. Sigyn smiled, lowering her hand, and watched as the warrior stared back at her.

“Forget something?” she grinned, laughing as the warrior struggled to reclaim her blade. Finally, she pulled it from the column with an exasperated huff and scowled at Sigyn, a twinkle of approval in her dark eyes. In an instant, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short chapter. I was having difficulty breaking at logical points.

Sigyn scrambled down the narrow steps into the chamber below the throne room. Located at the center of the great palace, it was the ideal location for the force field generator and Sigyn knew exactly where to find it. Luminescent torches lit the stairwell as she slid down the last few steps, tumbling into a large and echoing room. It was unnaturally dark, the torches behind her casting a weak light into the vast expanse. She raced across the room, tossing balls of light out from her hands as she ran, the room gradually lightening as she skidded to a halt in front of the generator. 

It was in ruins, pieces shattered and split, fragments of metal lodged in the floor and walls. There was no way she could fix it, not completely, but Sigyn refused to let Frigga down and turned to the wall. Hung on a shelf were a myriad of engineer belts laden with tools. Though she was not entirely familiar with the names of the strange devices, she at least knew what they did. Grabbing a tool from the wall, Sigyn fell to her knees in front of the generator, attempting to gauge the extent of the damage. The exterior casing and shell of the device were completely lost and served little purpose now. It was the generator’s inner workings that needed her attention. Sheathing her arm and tool in golden magic, Sigyn crawled underneath the generator, wiggling her way to its central core. 

She ripped a chunk of debris out of the way, revealing a tattered cluster of metal and magic. Wrapping her hand around a split bar, tool securely fastened to the other end, Sigyn forced the two pieces back together, metal scraping against metal. It she could reestablish flow between the central core and the generator rings, she could potentially get at least a section of the barrier operational. It would not encompass the palace completely, but it would make defense exceedingly more manageable. But for this she would need a different tool and Sigyn pulled her way out from underneath the generator. 

Before she was able to crawl out, the ceiling above her rippled and split, a massive chunk of stone hurtling toward her and crashing into the left side of the generator. Sigyn threw her arms over her head, quickly forming a defensive shield as the room caved in. Far above, the palace seemed to be crumbling to bits, a howling roar ripping through the air as Sigyn coughed and gagged for breath. She waved her sheathed hand and the air around her head cleared, her lungs sucking down greedy breaths. The chamber was a tattered mountain range now, enormous spikes of ceiling buried and piled all around. Sigyn looked back at the generator as it sparked and wheezed. She couldn’t possibly move all the debris on her own. She would need to gather at least half a dozen guards. 

Spotting a clear route to the stairwell, and praying that it remained intact, Sigyn attempted to move, but her leg burned with pain and she realized it was pinned under the wreckage of the generator. She couldn’t be sure, but it felt like a fracture, perhaps even a break. Her head was spinning too much for her to get a clear reading. Voices shouted above as the sound of more tumbling stone echoed in her ears. If she didn’t move soon she would be crushed. Gathering what energy she could, Sigyn formed a point with her fingers and flooded them with magic. Drawing her arm back she drove it into the debris and stone and metal shattered, flinging in every direction. 

Leg freed, Sigyn scrambled to her feet, head spinning more feverishly as she realized it was, indeed, a break. She splinted her leg with a shard of stone, securing it with two straps of golden magic, before clawing her way up the stairwell. As she drew nearer to the surface, Sigyn smelled burning. Fire? No, something far worse. Flesh. She fought her way over a pile of stone that had crumbled onto the stairs, her leg crying out with searing pain, but Sigyn only marginally increased the flow of magic to her injury. She would need all her power to repair the generator. 

When she finally emerged from the stairwell Sigyn stood dumbfounded and confused, leaning on the wall for support. The throne room had been completely untouched when she’d descended to the generator chamber. Now, it was it shambles. Column upon column lay crumbled like dust. The throne itself was half missing and Asgardian soldiers were strewn across the floor like rag dolls. Distracted as she was by the alien ship planted destructively in the center of the room and the strange black-armored bodies scattered among the soldiers, Sigyn shook the shock from her mind and flew to her knees, hand pressed against the neck of the nearest Asgardian soldier. Dead. She forced herself to move to the next, and the next, and the next. Most were already gone, but she was able to resuscitate three, healing what injuries she could. 

Sigyn helped a young soldier lean against the wall, supporting his limp arm with hers. 

“What happened?” she gasped, surveying the ruined throne room.

“Elves,” the soldier coughed and spattered blood. “Dark elves.” Sigyn ripped a piece of fabric from her skirt and held it to his bleeding head.

“Don’t move,” she instructed him, wedging a busted table beneath his injured arm for support. “Just stay still and press. We have to stop the bleeding.” Deciding that the generator was a hopeless concern, Sigyn poured her magic into the soldier, clotting his open wounds and stitching the shredded veins together. 

“Thank you,” the young soldier mumbled, holding the makeshift rag to his forehead. “Thank you, Lady Sigyn.” 

Sigyn was caught off guard, “You know me, sir?”

He shook his head, “No, but I recognize you from your engagement.” Sigyn gave a weak smile, less than eager for more harsh words. “I’m sorry about your fiancé,” the soldier looked at her, genuine apology in his hazel eyes. Sigyn was certainly caught off guard, now, unfamiliar with the idea of sympathy from her fellow Asgardians. 

“Thank you,” she finally said, pressing the rag to his forehead. 

“You would have made a fine queen,” he whispered, exhaustion setting in. This nearly made Sigyn drop her rag and she stole a glance down at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. Perhaps not all of Asgard was as heartless as she thought. Suddenly, the skies grew dark and lightening crashed through the air, ripping the heavens apart and shaking the palace like a trembling leaf. The soldier winced in pain and Sigyn did all she could to steady him, all the while staring in horror at the violent bolts piercing the skies. Thor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	12. Chapter 12

Sigyn did not think she had any more tears to give. She was wrong. 

Word of the queen’s death spread like a dark cloud over Asgard, bringing with it an overwhelming atmosphere of grieving and sorrow, the likes of which had not plagued the great kingdom in millennia. The morbid gowns she’d thought tucked away for good were once more pulled to the front of her wardrobe, dark fabric cold and eerie against Sigyn’s skin. As she went to the mirror she looked longingly at the messy pile of books and parchment on her desk, notes from the queen telling her specific chapters and passages to study. She had received many beautiful gifts from the queen over the years, gowns and journals and books, but this scrap of parchment she would treasure always, a fragment of the woman who had touched her soul.

Black wool wrapped around her arms and body, a thick cloak draped over her shoulders as she dishearteningly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It did not stay and soon fell forward again. Sigyn did not waste the effort; she was too tired. She reached down to her vanity, pulling the golden hair pin from its delicate box. Holding it in her hand, Sigyn’s eyes began to burn, tears already welling inside. It was so beautiful, so simple, so sweet, an heirloom of Frigga’s house, and she’d given it to Sigyn. She lifted it up and tucked it into the braid on the back of her head, vowing to wear it always in honor of the mother she’d always wanted. 

The funeral procession was vast with throngs of people stretching from the palace to the sea, a slow and somber gathering of dark blotches on the faded light of the Bifrost. Even Asgard itself seemed to mourn its queen. Sigyn had been asked to carry a lifelight in the queen’s memory, the soft glowing orb resting warm in her hands. When the time came, she released it to the skies along with thousands of others, Sif standing beside her to support her friend’s shaking frame. Even before the funeral, Sigyn had gone to the prisons, but had only made it so far as the outer doors when guards stopped her. By the Allfather’s order, none were to enter the prisons, not after the outbreak that led to… Sigyn shook it from her mind, tears already staining her face. As soon as the last mourner had departed, Sigyn stood alone at the edge of the city, Sif disappearing into the city behind her. She remained there until the last lifelight vanished into the night sky, and then set her sights on the prisons.

Sigyn did not give the guards the opportunity to turn her away, simply striding down the stairs and past their ranks, black cloak billowing out behind her as she passed through. This time, they did not stop her. The scars of battle were obvious to any with eyes: cracked walls, chunks of stone missing, scorch marks, and shattered remnants of armor and blood. They had not scrubbed it all away. Several of the cells were now empty, their golden walls gone and leaving the room hallow and empty. She wondered where the prisoners had been moved to, but she honestly did not care. There was only one prisoner she concerned herself with and Sigyn feared what she would find when she reached the final cell in the hall. 

Glittering, golden energy still pulsed around Loki’s cell, the walls completely intact as she slowly approached the chamber. With Frigga gone, the illusion that had surrounded his world for so long, providing comfort and privacy, was fading away, and within those streaks of reality Sigyn saw him. 

Glass shattered, tables upheaved, furniture split. The walls were covered in scrapes and scuffs, marks and scratches, nicks and smears. The chaise where they had whispered sweet secrets now lay in tattered ruins in the corner, wooden legs snapped from its base. His desk was split in two, all his books and notes from months of research shredded to pieces. At first, she didn’t even see him among the chaos, but once she did she couldn’t look away. Against the far back wall, hidden behind a crushed table, was Loki. Hair a mess, clothing disheveled, bare feet cut and bleeding, he sagged against the wall, eyes heavy with endless burning tears. 

With a single touch she deactivated his barrier and stepped inside, the wall reestablishing behind her. Despite the madness all around, his cell was eerily quiet even as she carefully stepped around the wreckage. As soon as she had set foot in the cell, Loki’s eyes had closed. Even now as she slowly knelt down to him he did not look at her, eyes remaining firmly shut. 

“Loki?” she whispered, not wanting to startle him. Instead, she reached for his face, eager to wipe away the blood and tears. She gasped when he snatched her hand, fingers digging into her skin with a fearsome strength. “Loki,” she struggled, his grip beginning to sting, “Loki, please, you’re…you’re hurting me.” He flung her hand away, eyes still closed as Sigyn rubbed at the bruised skin. She ignored her pain. “Loki, please,” she pleaded. “Just look at me.” Elated, she saw his eyelids flutter and soon he was gazing out at her, but his blue eyes did not bend, for they were already broken, shattered into a thousand bleeding pieces.

“What do you want?” he finally spoke, voice ragged and harsh, venom dripping from each hissed word. She could feel the pain, the heartache.

“Loki,” she shook her head, “I…”

“What?” he spat, eyes sharp and tongue sharper. “What do you want now? What have you to say to me, woman? Nothing you say is of any value to me! Nothing you do serves me any purpose! You come here after weeks of my suffering and misery. You left me here, alone and abandoned, and now you come! Now! Where were you then? Why didn’t you come then? Why didn’t you help me!” Loki tossed her aside, his strength throwing her into the shattered table behind and her head cracking into splintered wood. “Leave! GO! Leave me here to rot like all the rest.” 

Despite the beads of blood surfacing under her curls, Sigyn hoisted herself up and dragged her still healing leg inch by inch to sit in front of him. Again, he attempted to cast her aside, but Sigyn’s resolve was strong and she stopped the swing of his arm, pinning it down against the floor much to his surprise. He attempted to kick her away, but she sat her full weight on his legs and used her last strength to hold down his other arm. Sufficiently pinned, Loki had no choice but to meet her gaze and once he did Sigyn could see the pain breaking within. Soon, he crumbled before her, any and all hatred melting away to pure sorrow. He buried his face in Sigyn’s chest, wrapping his arms around her torso and curling into her embrace, each breath bringing with it a quivering sob. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m so sorry, Loki.” She came to sit next to him, grabbing a pillow to place behind his hunched back as she leaned against the wall. He laid his head in her lap, tears still streaming down his face as she held him, running her hand along his back in slow circles. Sad as she was, Sigyn knew her pain was nothing compared to his and she wanted nothing more than to comfort him in whatever meager way she could. For now, she thought of only one thing. She began to sing. It was a song her grandfather had sung to her as a child and she remembered the tune by heart. As the words emerged from her memory and filled their small corner, Sigyn, too, drifted off to sleep, her arms wrapped around Loki’s shattered body. 

“The sky is dark and the hills are white  
As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;  
And this is the song the storm-king sings,  
As over the world his cloak he flings.

On yonder mountain-side a vine  
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;  
The tree bends over the trembling thing,  
And only the vine can hear her sing.

The king may sing in his bitter flight,  
The pine may croon to the vine to-night,  
But the little snowflake at my breast  
Likes the song I sing the best, ---  
Sleep, oh sleep, little one;  
Weary thou art anon;  
Sleep, little one, sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Sigyn sings to Loki is based on the poem "Norse Lullaby" by Eugene Field (1850-1895). Enjoy. 
> 
> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter in comparison. More to come.

She kissed his head and hands, pleading that he allow her to clean his wounds, but he did not move, not until she was forced to lift his head from her lap and lean him back against the wall, soft pillow behind his back. Sigyn whispered in his ear, telling him that she’d reset the illusion, and ran her hand over his cheek, cupping his face in her palm. She did not want to leave him, but she knew that they would soon be looking for her. As the queen’s most trusted handmaiden and student, burdens of remembrance and mourning would fall to Sigyn, if the king did not see fit to banish her from the palace halls. Frigga was gone and, though Thor had always been close to her, Sigyn doubted that the king would tolerate the rebellious young lady much longer without the queen’s constant insistence.

“I love you, Loki,” Sigyn murmured, cradling his head in her hands, wishing desperately that he’d look at her. He did not; he only stared forward, eyes empty and bloodshot. She now felt what pain he must have suffered during her illness, the frustration and heartache at being so close yet so far away. She placed her hand on his cheek one last time, running her thumb under his blue eye, before turning for the barrier. She was stopped by a weak tugging on her hand and soft cool fingers coming to rest overtop hers. Heart flooded with hope, Sigyn turned back around and saw Loki’s pale hand layered over hers. He looked up at her, blue eyes peeking out from underneath scraggly black locks, but somewhere underneath was a spark of life, a flicker of warmth, gold and green. He held her hand tightly, leaning his head into her soft palm, and closed his eyes before placing a single kiss on the inner creases. 

She almost considered staying, remaining until the guards came and found them, until Odin himself came to tear them apart. Even then Sigyn would not part from Loki; she would kill any who dared to take him from her. They would regret their own lives upon seeing her wrath. None would take Loki from her, never, and she would make sure of it. They would realize their mistakes.

She’d combed through every book a thousand times, a million times, nothing proving strong or powerful enough to help Loki. Sigyn would have been grateful for anything: a draught to banish his madness, an herb to ease his pain, a spell to cast away his tormentor, even a summoning to bring the bastard here so she might exact her revenge upon him. Nothing proved worthwhile, not a single thing. Sigyn threw the worthless book to the ground, crumbling into her chair and resting her aching head in her cracked hands. Her eyes burned, but her heart burned more. There had to be something, anything, but Sigyn was stuck, lost in a wide world of seemingly useless information. She needed help and the only person who had ever shown her any empathy was gone from her life forever. Tears threatened from behind her grey eyes and Sigyn forced them back. Frigga would not have given up so easily, so neither should she. 

As she resolved to rise from her chair once more and rededicate herself, a shrill hum whizzed outside her balcony, a dark shadow flitting across the blue sky. Sigyn scrambled to her feet and flew to the balcony, staring up at the sky as a strange dark ship tore across the horizon. Rubble fell in destructive chunks from the great golden balcony of the throne room. She could hear them crash into the water even from across the bay. Had the dark elves returned? She was certain the ship was one of theirs, identifying it as the same ship that had laid in the throne room until that very day, but it seemed different. The dark, sharp ship pitched and rolled, obviously trying to avoid the firefight raining down from the palace heights, but it crashed and pummeled through towers and spires, causing far more damage to its own body than it was causing to Asgard. Something was wrong. 

As the strange ship fled out to the open waters of the bay, Sigyn’s chest pinched, a sharp pain striking her chest with eerie familiarity. Loki? She watched as a small speck sprung from the side of the alien ship and gasped at the realization. Even from this distance, Sigyn knew it was him. Far below, skating along the water’s surface, was an Asgardian boat. He’d never make it. Sigyn reached out her hand, aiming for the falling figure across the bay. It twisted and spun in the air, desperately trying to regain control, and Sigyn threw her magic out, firing it like an arrow at the tiny form. When it hit, her magic redirected the figure’s trajectory and it crashed into the small boat below, disappearing from her sight. Suddenly, another figure leapt from the alien ship and landed in the boat, the dark elves’ ship peeling off, pursued by a dozen royal fighters. 

Three souls, Sigyn counted. One green - Loki - but two others, also. Thor, his blaring golden energy was unmistakable, but it was accompanied by another, one Sigyn only barely recognized until she felt the dark aether surging within. Jane. They had escaped, but Sigyn knew not why. She only vaguely suspected where they were headed. She knew of Loki’s passageways, one near the base of the far peaks, and she watched as the tiny boat disappeared into the mountains, all three souls vanishing from her sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	14. Chapter 14

Sigyn stumbled through the halls in a dazed confusion, people and soldiers scrambling all about. 

“Sif!” she cried out, spotting the dark-haired warrior from across the hall. She was with a company of soldiers, all armed and on edge as Sigyn approached, but they blocked her path. “Sif, what’s going on?” Sigyn glowered at the young soldier in front of her. She then spotted the armored hands wrapped around Sif’s arms and the small golden shackles latched tightly around the warriors wrists. “What are you doing with her?” Sigyn shouted, reaching through their ranks toward Sif. “Let her go!”

“No, Sigyn, it’s alright,” Sif raised her shackled hands. “They’re just doing their jobs.”

“What?” Sigyn gaped, slapping away a guard’s hand. “No, this must be a mistake. This is impossible. Explain yourselves!” Sigyn glared at the soldiers, face flushed with rage.

“Sigyn, please,” Sif implored, sliding through two soldiers to stand before her. “There’s no mistake. I’m to be detained for the remainder of the Alignment.” 

“Detained?” Sigyn shook her head. “What for?”

“For treason, Lady Sigyn,” a soldier replied. 

“No one asked you!” she snapped, suddenly comprehending his answer. “Treason?” she stared wide-eyed at her friend. 

“Would you give us a moment, boys?” Sif looked to her captors. They nodded and stepped aside, watching from a safe distance. 

“Sif, what is going on?” Sigyn pleaded, growing more enraged by the minute at the sight of the shackles around her friend’s wrists. 

“Thor and Loki have fled,” the warrior replied, “with the mortal woman, Jane. They make for the Dark World.” 

“Svartalfheim?” Sigyn’s mind swam in confusion. “Why do they go to the Dark World?” 

“They are attempting to draw Malekith’s attention away from Asgard,” Sif explained. The Dark Elf ruler. Sigyn had heard his name before. It was now well known among the people that he had been responsible for the queen’s death and every citizen thirsted for his blood, Sigyn included. 

“They lure him with the Aether,” Sigyn confirmed and Sif nodded. Sigyn now understood. “You helped.” Sif nodded again. “And the others?” Another nod from the warrior. “What of Loki?” Sigyn asked, desperate for any information.

“Thor needed him to free Jane from Asgard,” Sif reported. “You know of his pathways.” This time, Sigyn nodded. “Thor granted him temporary freedom and the promise of vengeance should he help us.” 

“Fair trade,” Sigyn muttered and Sif let out a weak laugh. They stood in silence for a moment while the palace whipped around them. 

“Will you help with the Alignment?” Sif finally asked, looking to her friend. Sigyn shook her head.

“It is beyond my skill,” she admitted. “The only person with any applicable knowledge of the Alignment was…” Her voice trailed off, eyes burning at the threat of more tears. She slammed them shut, ashamed of her weakness in front of her friend. There came a warmth on her shoulder and Sigyn was shocked to find Sif’s shackled hands resting on her, dark eyes filled with sorrow. 

“Be safe, my friend,” Sif smiled weakly as the guards came to collect her and Sigyn was left alone in the hall. Asgard spun with chaos and terror as word of the Alignment spread like wildfire, soldiers and guards sent out to the furthest reaches of the city as a preemptive attempt at defense, but Sigyn knew it was useless. If Malekith reclaimed the Aether, if he unleased it on the Nine Realms during the Alignment, nothing would stop the darkness, certainly not a handful of soldiers. There was nothing any of them could do but wait for the inevitable apocalypse. Sigyn felt completely useless. If the queen were here she would have answers, she would tell Sigyn exactly what to do, what needed to be done to prevent this destruction, but Sigyn was alone. Frigga was gone, and now so was Loki. Her mother, dead, and her lover racing off to certain doom. She clenched her fists, a few defiant tears trickling down her face. Could she be so weak? No, she would not stand by as her world fell to ruin once more, as Loki sacrificed all to save her. She would help him.

As she stood before her desk and the piles of hastily scribbled notes and mountains of books, Sigyn knew she would do anything she could to save Loki. If she had to take his place, so be it. She reached for the old, black tome, its bindings cold and worn as she flipped it open. Powerful magic, the queen had said. Dark magic. Sigyn ran her fingers along the crackled pages, sharp and shadowed words leaping out at her. She was powerful, too, and her soul had grown darker each day with shadowed and wrathful rage. The queen had been right; the words came easy now, slipping from her lips like a black mist as she called forth the draught. 

Her Loki was strong, he was powerful and vicious, clever and wicked. No half-dead relic of a world long lost would defeat him. He was Liesmith, Shapechanger, Master of Deceit, and Son of Secret. Malekith, this heathenness dark elf, could not stand against him. Not now, not ever. Dark power surged through her, slow and smooth like black water, thick as blood and warm as breath. Sigyn’s head rolled back, eyes fluttering as the magic came to her. She was its master, wielder and weapon alike, and Sigyn would claim this power for her own. She called forth the draught, a dark mist to eject Loki’s puppeteer for all days. Never again would he torment her love, torture and control him. Sigyn would free him and then they would be free together.

Her face pinched and her knuckles tightened as Sigyn struggled for breath. Arm frozen above the ancient tome, she gasped and moaned as a darkness seeped in, crawling up her arm and through her body. Sharp and swift, malicious and angry, it attacked her mind, swarming her consciousness with all-consuming darkness. Fire burned behind her eyes, in her skull, and under her chest as Sigyn clutched at her head. Voices, laughter, cackling and howling as darkness closed in, her skin burning with searing pain. She screamed, clawing at her scalp with ragged nails as she tried to fight it off. Sigyn crashed into the wall, wildly clutching her head as the tapestry tumbled down around her, books falling from the shelves. Still she screamed as the darkness swelled inside, circling her heart until only a pinpoint of golden light remained. Slowly, it shrunk to near nothing and Sigyn feared the worst.

Suddenly, the light surged and roared to life, but not golden.

Blue.

Sigyn’s eyes flew open and she shrieked in terror, crumbling to the floor and falling into the toppled tapestry. Her mind was once again her own as the darkness vanished, her hands still shaking as she dug her nails into her scalp. Sigyn leapt to her feet and snatched the ancient tome from her desk, slamming it shut and throwing it across the floor. It crashed into the wall and was buried beneath a pile of books. Slowly, Sigyn folded to the ground, leaning against the foot of her bed for protection. Her breath raced in her chest, heart pounding in her ears, and she clutched the old green cloak in her arms, wrapping around her shaking frame. 

“Mother,” she whimpered, closing her eyes against the light outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	15. Chapter 15

The world fell to shattered and bloody shambles all around. The skies tumbled down, skeleton structures burning like hallow lungs through rippling, glass-like portals. Darkness swirled and circled like a vulture waiting for the taste of fresh meat. People fled in fear, screaming and staring at the sky in horror. The Alignment. They all stood to watch as their lives hung in the balance, strung between oblivion and existence as the great golden prince battled the dark shadow lord. Thor. He swung his hammer and crushed the dark elves, flinging them aside like dolls as he drove toward Malekith, strange metal spikes in his fist. Sigyn’s heart caught in her throat, his right hand unnaturally empty. Where was Mjölnir. As the Aether swelled to full power, its inky arms reaching through the portal above and sending the Asgardians fleeing in terror, the hammer appeared and Sigyn watched as Thor drilled a metal spike into Malekith’s chest. Like a drop in a pond, the elf vanished.

Cheers erupted throughout the city and, likely, the rest of the nine realms as Malekith was vanquished. As the people celebrated and shouted with joy, Sigyn could only scrambled for answers. She had not seen Loki. Jane was there with Thor, but where was Loki? Sigyn pushed her way through the crowds the next day as Thor returned victorious, but the elder prince did not stop to receive praises from the masses. He walked past, uncharacteristically quiet and solemn, and entered the great throne room. The nobles were dismissed, told to return to their homes, and Sigyn found herself turned away, the guards strictly enforcing the order. 

As she waited nervously in her chamber, Sigyn could not help but feel an air of suspicion. Something was wrong, wrong with Thor, wrong with the battle of the Alignment. She rose to her feet and began to pace, wringing her hands as she tried to clear her head. Every manner of horror flashed through her mind, each and every one centering on a terrible fate for her missing husband. Loki had not returned with Thor and Sigyn had assumed the younger prince simply delivered to his cell indefinitely, but when she’d gone to seek him out the guards had refused to let her pass, saying that the prisons had been temporarily emptied. 

“And what of the prince?” she asked, watching as two guards hauled out the wreckage of the skirmish. 

“He is not here,” the guard responded dryly. She pried for more answers, but was eventually escorted out. Now she could only wait. The king would not speak to her, even Thor had not answered her messages. Sif and the Warriors Three were spent, stretched thin across the nine realms as they managed the chaos of the Alignment. Sigyn was without information or answers, and she was alone. A knock came at her door and Sigyn leapt to her feet, wrapping her calloused hands around the handle to heave it open. 

“Thor?” she gaped at the golden prince, shocked to see him after so many unanswered letters. He seemed weak, heavy, as if some great burden lay on him. Sigyn feared that the battle with Malekith had drained him.

“May I come in, sister?” Thor asked, speaking quite plainly to her. 

Sigyn nodded and motioned for him to enter, “Of course! Please.” Thor entered and stood quietly while Sigyn closed the door. “What can I do for you, my prince?” She stopped when she saw the way he looked at her. “Thor,” she hurried to his side, grasping his hand, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Thor smiled at her and nodded, placing a thick hand on her shoulder.

“You were always so kind, dear sister,” he smiled, gripping her tightly as they sat in two plush chairs. “I always admired that about you. No matter how much you were suffering, you always cared more about the pain of others than your own.” Thor had the innate ability to make Sigyn feel like the most important person in the nine realms, as if she alone was a treasure to be cherished. He had always been so supportive of her, so protective, as if she truly were his sister. Loki had often criticized Thor for being brash and thick-headed, but Sigyn could admit wholeheartedly that she’d come to love her new brother. 

“I haven’t had the chance to extend my condolences,” Sigyn finally said, glancing down at her shoes. “The queen loved you very much.” Thor gripped her hand again.

“As she loved you,” he forced a smile, “but that is not why I’ve come.” Sigyn’s throat tightened, her hands growing clammy as she pulled them from his.

“Brother?” Sigyn stammered upon seeing the pain in his eyes, the sorrow and heartbreak. “What’s happened?” He looked up at her, blue eyes bleeding with grief. 

“Loki.” 

She could feel the air leave her, abandoning her lungs as if a plague had fallen upon them. Gripping the arms of the chair, Sigyn attempted to steady herself, head already beginning to pound, chest already beginning to heave. 

“He sacrificed himself for me,” Thor forced through tear-stained eyes, fists clenched tightly in his lap. “For Jane.” The world seemed to fall dead around her, ears unable to hear, fingers unable to feel. Breath barely reached her frozen lungs as Thor stared at her, face creased with agonizing grief as he watched her reel beneath the news. She needed to move, she thought as she flexed her hands. She needed to stand, move, walk, anything. Sigyn tried to rise to her feet, injured leg burning beneath her as she stumbled to the center of the room. With her back turned to Thor, she allowed the tears to fall, her mouth hanging open, voiceless, wordless. Nothing would come. 

She slammed her eyes shut as the tears streamed down her face, splashing to small pools by her feet. Suddenly, warm hands wrapped around her shaking arms and she was turned around, Thor pulling her close into his embrace. With her face pressed into his armor Sigyn felt the dampness of the metal, remnants of Thor’s own tears, and she wept. She howled into his chest, arms hanging loosely against the cold metal as his own tears dropped onto her shoulder. 

All again. After everything they had suffered, still more pain fell upon them like ceaseless rain. Loki. Her Loki. She had him, had him in her arms, in her soul, in her heart. Finally, he was hers, and now he was lost once more. Sigyn wailed into Thor’s chest, burying her face from the shameful sun. Surely now she would die for her heart could take no more. No more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	16. Chapter 16

This time, at least, Loki’s death was properly mourned, as much so as could be offered for a reborn fallen traitor. Black flags were hung throughout the city, nightly horns were sounded at dusk for seven days, and the palace portraits were draped with sheer black fabric. Sigyn had her lavender gowns and burgundy dresses packed into trunks and sent to her grandfather’s estate. She had no use for them anymore. Her wardrobe was hung with onyx, navy, and ash, a collection of head scarves and veils delivered by the seamstress just that morning. The only spots of color that remained were a single gold pin, laced with delicate metal flowers and leaves forever woven into the braid atop her head, and one other item. Sigyn strapped it around her neck, the heavy fabric hanging thick and warm around her. 

The green of the cloak stood vivid against her black gown, a lush garden masking the lifeless void beneath. She knew what people would say. Some may lower their eyes out of respect for the cursed bride, still others may frown and shake their heads. She didn’t care. Sigyn wore it proudly, a constant reminder of the life and love she’d lost too soon. Even now, as she walked down Asgard’s glittering golden halls, Sigyn held her head high. If they saw her, they would think of him. They would think of how they treated him, how they disgraced and abandoned him. They would see her and repent, and suffer.

Sigyn stepped into the small chamber, a few minutes early for her meeting. A guard would be coming shortly to take down her recollection of the events of the Alignment, so she simply waited, standing by the window and staring out at the bay. The wreckage of that day had been cleared away quickly, any reminder of the battle for Asgard lost to the gentle ebb of the tide. 

“Lady Sigyn?” a voice jolted her from her daydreaming and she spun around, a young gold-plated guard standing in the doorway, helm in hand. “I apologize for startling you, my lady,” the youth bowed his head.

“That’s quite alright,” she assured him, calming her flustered heart. “I was just…” she stole one final glance at the bay, “lost in thought. Please excuse my listlessness.”

“That’s hardly necessary,” he smiled, entering the chamber, “after the pain you’ve endured.”

Sigyn blushed, “That’s very kind of you, sir.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Shall we?”

“Of course. Please,” he motioned to the chair opposite him at the table, but Sigyn declined, “tell me whatever you can remember of the Alignment and the attack on the palace.” Sigyn wandered to the window once more, peering out the small opening at the glistening water. 

“I was accompanying the Lady Jane of Midgard in her chamber,” Sigyn recalled, thinking of the sketch she’d never finished, sharp jaw and striking eyes. “We heard a commotion in the corridor outside and encountered the Queen Mother,” she absentmindedly raised a hand to the pin in her hair, “who informed us of an attack on the palace. She instructed me to attempt to repair the central force field generator and took the Lady Jane to her chamber for safety.” Sigyn thought of the crumbling walls, agitated guards, and frantic citizens. She thought of how Frigga had placed a hand on her shoulder and placed her trust in her. That’s my girl. Sigyn shook the memory from her mind and continued, “That was the last I saw of the queen.” She turned around to see what the guard had to say, but was shocked to see him staring at her, eyes fixed on her form at the window. “Aren’t you…” she suddenly felt warm, “supposed to write this down?” 

The guard stuttered and snatched up a nearby quill, “Yes, of course. Please, go on. Tell me of the princes’ escape.” Sigyn admitted that he was a dashing youth, tall with gold hair and hazel eyes. She thought she’d seen him patrolling the prisons at some point. Perhaps she’d drugged him for one of her visits with Loki. 

“I was in my study,” Sigyn kept her eyes on him until she turned back to the window, “when the alien ship emerged from the palace. I saw it from across the bay, and I saw the Princes Thor and Loki leap from its hull with the Lady Jane, landing in a small boat on the water with which they escaped.”

“Did you see how they escaped?” the guard asked, glancing up at her. “We’ve not been able to figure that out.” Sigyn swore she saw a smile on his lips as he looked at her and it made her nervous, the heat rising to her face. Maybe she had seen him before. 

“No,” she responded, withholding the detail of Loki’s secret passageway. “I did not see how they escaped. I only saw the boat and then the alien ship crashed into the sea.” The guard continued to smile at her, scribbling a few words onto his parchment. 

“And the elder prince, Thor,” the guard asked, stealing glances up at her. “He came to visit you, yes?”

Sigyn scowled, “Yes, but I don’t see how that has anything to do with my statement.” 

“You needn’t worry, Lady Sigyn,” the guard smirked at her. “Your secret is safe with me.” Sigyn’s rage flared, heat pouring through her body.

“Just what are you insinuating, sir?” she demanded, fists clenched tightly at her side, one grasping the edge of Loki’s cloak. The guard only continued to smirk, quill in hand as he stared at her. Sigyn snapped to the window, turning her back on him. “I am a lady of the Vanir,” she hissed, attempting to sate her rage, “a lady of the Asgardian court and the granddaughter of the Sea, and I will not be spoken to in such a -”

She froze as a pair of hands wove their way around her waist, fingers trailing along the laces of her dress.

“My lady,” a man’s voice murmured in her ear, hot and thick. Sigyn whipped around, Loki’s dagger in her hand, and sliced the guard across the cheek, sending him tumbling back into the table as fresh blood bubbled to the surface. 

“What are you doing?” she howled at him, heart pounding as the guard raised a hand to his bleeding cheek and laughed. 

“You are feisty,” he sneered, eyes flashing at her. “I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.”

“If you so much as touch me again,” Sigyn held the dagger at him, knuckles white with rage, “I will sever you from your most precious appendage.” The guard chuckled and leaned against the table, a single trail of blood trickling down his smiling face.

“Now that,” he cocked an eyebrow, “I believe.” Sigyn did not lower her weapon or her gaze as the soldier removed his cloak, tossing it to a pile on the table, and began unlacing the straps of his armor. Only then did her hand betray her and begin to shake. 

“If you think I will not do it, boy,” Sigyn spat, “you will be sorely mistake.” He only laughed at her, tossing aside one of his golden vambraces. 

“I never understood all this armor,” the guard huffed, releasing another strap on his arm. “It just gets in the way.” 

“Perhaps you should allow it to,” Sigyn responded. “Lest you make another poor decision.” 

“Oh, believe me, my lady,” he smirked, “This is a wonderful decision.”

“I am not your lady!” Sigyn howled, dagger fixed upon him. He glanced at the glittering blade and smiled, eyes flashing with mischief as he rose to his feet.

“Are you not?” he whispered, stretching out his arms. The room swelled with a familiar magic, sharp and swift and flashing with fierce energy, and the guard’s form began to shift. His golden armor and blond hair rippled like water, vanishing beneath the flickering of strong magic as his true form was revealed: raven hair, porcelain skin, sharp jaw, and piercing blue eyes. “Did you miss me, my dear?” Loki smirked, arms extended. 

Sigyn stumbled back, but did not lower her blade. Was it a mirage, a phantom, some demon sent to torment her and drag her to Hel? Her hand shook, the dagger flashing in the sunlight from the small window as he approached her. 

“Is that any way to greet your husband?” he feigned offense, brows creased with a pout. Still she did not lower the blade even as he reached out for her and wrapped his fingers around hers. At their touch Sigyn saw inside him, saw the energy swirling like sunlight through leaves, green and gold and beautiful. It was Loki. He smiled at her, recognizing her realization, “My love…”

Her fist cracked across his face, sending the young prince tumbling into the table for support, hand cupped around his gushing nose.

“Gah!” he snorted, blood trickling down his lips. “Sigyn! What is wrong with you?” She could only stare at him, eyes burning and dagger-clenched fist shaking at her side. 

“Me?” she spat and suddenly gasped for breath. His expression shifted from mischief to shock and now to regret as he wiped the blood from his nose and walked toward her. 

“Sigyn, I -” he reached for her, but she held out his dagger and he stopped, hands held aloft. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know how she felt. She knew she felt only anger, anger at him. Unable to dissuade her, Loki wrapped his hand around the sharp edge of the blade. She fought him, trying to yank it free, but eventually he took it from her shaking hand and dropped it to the ground, metal clanging against stone as he took her in his arms. 

“You were dead,” she whimpered into his chest, his hand running down the length of her curls.

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” he snickered and Sigyn pushed herself off his chest, forcing him to arm’s length. “Sigyn, please!” he begged her, hands wrapped around her fighting arms, but she continued to resist. How could he do this to her? Again, after so much pain and suffering, how could he? “Sigyn, please!" he tried to bring her back, “Sigyn, I’m sorry!” Her arms froze, but remained tightly gripped around his neck and shoulder, keeping him at a safe distance. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, eyes heavy with regret. “I’m sorry.” Her arms sagged, allowing him a few inches closer to her, but she diverted her gaze, unable to look at him as the venomous words flew from her mouth.

“What more,” she hissed, hand gripped tightly around his collar, “What more can I do to prove my loyalty, my devotion, my love for you!” He flinched under her grasp. “What more can I do to show you that I love you! That I would fight for you, bleed for you, die for you!” He was exposed now, laid low by her piercing words. “What more!” she howled and he swiftly pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight embrace. She no longer fought, folding into his arms willingly. 

“You have done so much for me, my lady,” he lifted her face to meet him and Sigyn saw the suffering in his eyes, the blue bleeding red. "You once said that you would stand by me through anything,” he cupped her face in his hand, “that you would stay with me even in prison, in exile, that you loved me beyond all else. Is this still true?” Sigyn met his gaze, overwhelmed by the vulnerability, the trust. 

“You know it is,” she replied, hand loosening on his collar to rest against his neck. 

“I have asked so much of you already, too much,” he ran his thumb up and down her cheek. “My dear, my love. My Sigyn,” she closed her eyes at his touch, soaking in the warmth she thought she would never feel again, “will you stay with me? Will you love me still?” She opened her eyes, meeting his. They glistened with sorrow as he studied her face, waiting in earnest hope for her answer. She knew her answer; she had always known her answer. She reached up to him, taking his face in her hand, and he laid his overtop hers, leaning his face into her touch. 

“Forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	17. Epilogue

In the not so distant future…

Spikes of stone and streaks of energy tore through the air, ripping the mountainside to shreds as Sigyn clung to the rock face. She sharpened the magic around her hands and feet, digging her fingers and boots further into the mountain’s skin as she climbed higher. Ships careened and crashed behind her, colliding midair in glorious clouds of fire and smoke, voices wailing and shouting all around and far below. She couldn’t look down; she’d made that mistake already and nearly went screaming down the mountain to her death. So she fixed her eyes ahead, aiming for the jut of stone not twenty yards away. The mountain began to level, Sigyn relieved for the feeling of solid ground beneath her feet as she climbed the last few feet and scrambled onto the stone platform. 

She wiped the hair and sweat from her face, blood smearing across her skin as she caught her breath, but there was little time to recuperate. Armored head to toe in crimson and gold, a figure tore through the sky, taking down three enemy ships with a single strike. Dozens more dropped from the sky like flies, arrows lodged securely in their heads. Not far off, Sigyn heard animalistic roars and felt the ground quake beneath her. Far below, she could still see his shield flying through the air until he snatched it once more, slamming it into skull after skull. Nearby was the crimson-haired warrior, her hand sparking with charges of energy. The sky cracked with lightning as Thor crashed to a landing behind her, leaning on the mountain as he gasped and wheezed.

“You should have stayed in your library, child,” a dark voice ran down her spine and Sigyn looked to its source, a massive man armored in gold, glowing fist at his side. Sigyn ignored the blood gushing down her leg, the searing pain ripping through her body, and Thor’s strained pleas. She focused only ahead, eyes locked on her goal. He was there, crumpled over in the dirt, leaning on hands and knees as the blood dripped from his raven locks to pour over his forehead, staining the ground beneath his hands. He looked up at her, blue eyes filled with blood. Loki.

“Sigyn, no,” he coughed, blood splattering into the dirt as the armored man loomed over him. She did not stop, drawing the sword from her waist and sheathing it with a thick layer of golden magic. The man smiled.

“You will not touch him,” Sigyn growled, forcing as much venom into her words as she could.

“Foolish child,” the man scoffed, shoving Loki aside with his heavy foot. “You know not what you face, the oblivion at your door.”

“Do not speak to me of oblivion, fleshmonger,” Sigyn spat, coming to stand before him, several yards still dividing them. “I know its touch and clutches.”

“You!” he laughed, tossing aside an empty helmet. “You, whelp, know nothing of darkness, the endless void, the beauty that is death.” Her blood boiled within her, surging from limb to limb and filling her with burning rage.

“Do I not? Death is my birthright,” Sigyn glared at him, eyes burning with blood and fire as she spoke. 

“Then light shone from Logafell,  
and from that radiance there came bolts of lightning;  
wearing helmets at Himingvani came the valkyries.  
Their byrnies were drenched in blood;  
and rays shone from their spears.”

“I am descended from the Valkyrie. I am winged wrath and ruin, righteous reaping hand, golden blood and shining light, chooser of the slain, raven’s wing. I am lady of war ready to ride.” Eyes still fixed on the armored man looming near, she thrust her sword at Loki, blade tip pointing at his hunched form as he looked up at her, blue eyes swelling with shock. “That soul is mine to claim, mine to reap!” Sigyn shouted, “and you will not take it from me!” She howled, energy coursing through her veins, consuming her soul, and white light surging around her in great echoing rings. She could feel them forming, springing forth from her back and reaching to the high heavens with shining tips as golden magic burned like roaring flames in her hands. 

The armored man stared at her, obvious shock in his cruel eyes as Sigyn charged, her eyes shining like diamonds in the morning sky. Sword brandished in her raised arm, she flew at the mad titan and drove her blade toward his heart. 

 

Several years later…

 

Stark’s newly rebuilt tower was impressive to say the least, its metallic spire reaching far into the sky. Thor admired the man’s intelligence and craftsmanship. His fortress was impressive and formidable. Rodgers and Banner sat across from him, the captain leaning forward in his chair as the doctor twiddled with the glass of water in his hands. Barton and Romanov were sitting just to his side, whispering to each other in hushed tones as the lady warrior pointed at Stark’s floating screen. 

“Thor,” Rodgers grabbed his attention, pulling Thor from his daze. “What exactly are we dealing with here?” The captain rose to his feet and pointed at the screen where the image of young lady flickered in blue tones. She had soft curls, though they were tousled and chaotic now, and her eyes shone fierce and wild, narrowed to a menacing glare. 

“You said you know this girl, right?” Stark called from across the room, snatching a bottle from a high shelf on the wall and pouring its contents into a glass. “That’s what you said when she – ahem – swatted you out of the sky like a bee.” Thor scowled.

“If I remember correctly, Stark,” he mumbled, thinking of the battle in the streets only a few days ago, “you, too, were defeated by her.” 

“Yeah, well,” Stark rubbed a hand across his nose, bringing his glass with him as he hoped down into the sunken living room, “I’m not the god of thunder.” Thor frowned, eyeing Mjölnir where it sat on the table next to him. 

“If you ask me,” Natasha interjected, eyeing the lady on the screen, “we should treat her same as any other target: armed and dangerous. Clearly, she is.”

“Not to mention, she was married to Loki,” Barton added, obvious disgust on his face.

“Is,” Thor glared at him and the archer’s brow raised. “She is married to Loki.” 

“I don’t see how that matters,” Banner nodded at the screen. “Still married or not, the girl obviously feels a sick sense of loyalty to him and anyone who dedicates their life that passionately to a guy like that clearly is something of a threat.” 

“Take care how you speak, Banner,” Thor warned him. “You know that Loki’s actions were not his own.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Stark waved a hand, downing his drink. “We heard you the first time, point break. Mystical, magical, cackling puppeteer. Gotcha. Very scary. We all saw him, remember?” 

“I think what Banner is trying to say,” Rodgers intervened as Thor’s hands tightened around his glass, “is that we should try to better understand why this girl is the way she is, her motivations, and you’re the best one to tell us that.” Thor stayed his rage and set aside his drink, clasping his hands in his lap as he tried to remember a time so very long ago.

“Sigyn was never the same after Loki’s death,” he explained, thinking of the joyful and warm girl of his youth, remembering how she tended to their injuries as boys, how she would carefully bind their wounds with a gentle smile, even the ones she had skillfully inflicted herself. He thought of her glowing face and how Loki had thrust her hand into the air to the sound of a thousand cheering voices. He thought of her heart wrenching wails as she wept into his chest. “She slipped into darkness, her mind torn apart by grief and agony. Her sanity was twisted and warped. She poured herself into magic and fell further into the ancient calling of her blood. Purpose awakened once more, she sought only vengeance for the loss of her husband.” Thor looked up at the screen, tears threatening to spill from his strong blue eyes as he looked at her darkened face, her hallow and empty eyes. “The sweet girl I once knew is no more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	18. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, readers. My rendition of the life and love of Sigyn Freyadottir and Loki Odinson. This second and - for the foreseeable future - last section of the story focused on the events surrounding Marvel's second and third Thor Universe films, "The Avengers" (2012) and "Thor: The Dark World" (2013). I took some liberty with my epilogue, chapter seventeen, to look into the future of Sigyn and Loki, as well as to satisfy my desire to write in a bit of the other Avengers characters. Please, feel free to leave comments or link to my story. I'm always eager to hear from my fellow writers and readers. 
> 
> If you haven't already, please see my list of works for the first part of this story, Dreams and Nightmares: Part One. It will likely clear up any questions you have if you've only read the second half so far. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me,  
> Lauren

"When the sins of my father  
weigh down in my soul  
and the pain of my mother  
will not let me go,  
well I know there can come fire from the sky  
to refine the purest of kings.  
Even though  
I know this fire brings me pain,  
even so  
and just the same

make it rain,  
make it rain down low,  
just make it rain."

\- Ed Sheeran


	19. Bonus Work

Due to gracious demand from my readers, and since I'm not writing a sequel until more films are released, I've decided to write a series of short prequel stories based on the characters of "Dreams and Nightmares: Parts One and Two". We will get a chance to more deeply explore the interactions and developing relationship between both Sigyn and Loki, as well as the other Thor Universe characters. 

So, you can go check out my list of works for "Dreams and Nightmares: Bonus". Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires. I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	20. Check Out My New Book - The Elements: Descension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HELP ME ACHIEVE MY DREAM:
> 
> The Nerdist has partnered with Inkshares for a massive publishing contest. At the end of September, the top 5 pre-ordered books will receive publishing contracts. My book is now in the running.
> 
> So, please: Follow the link below to support my book. $10 will get you a first edition copy and send me closer to the top 5. As a side note: If I don’t make the top 5, you won’t be charged. Plus, pre-order or not, you can still read my book cover to cover! You got a taste above. Feel free to leave notes, critiques, or comments.
> 
> PLEASE, spread the word. Tell your friends, your coworkers, your classmates, your family, that guy at the gym, the barista down the street, and anyone else who will listen. Share this post or the link below on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr.
> 
> THE DEADLINE IS SEPTEMBER 30.
> 
> Read the first installment of The Elements Trilogy in its entirety at https://www.inkshares.com/projects/the-elements-descension .
> 
> Below is just a taste...

“What do you know about war?” he imparted. “Have you ever been on the front lines, princess? Have you ever cut open a demon and watched it writhe and burn in the sun, had its stinking guts spew all over you?”

Her knuckles met his chest with a resounding crack and Aedyn felt the air rush from his lungs. The neck of his tunic was clenched in her fist as she pulled him forward, forcing him to meet her face to face.

“What do I know?” she snarled, her eyes fading to darkness, lightning crackling inside them. A shiver raced down his spine. “I hear that Highan is so proud of its five princes,” she hissed, her grip tightening around his neck, “Its five glorious princes, its five blessed princes, but not five thousand princes could save you from the terror my people have seen beyond the horizon.” He watched as her eyes sparked, that same charge surging through the air around them and making the leaves to stand stiff and quiver. “It is a holocaust so terrifying, so horrific, that your people will gouge out their ears to keep from hearing their own screams.”

The trees grew silent and even the birds refused to break the void. His hand was wrapped around her wrist now, tightening with each passing moment, and he felt as the icy cold crept down her fingers into his palm. It stung with an unnatural burning and made him want to run to the nearest hearth and throw himself into the flames.

Embers inside his chest swelled into being, erupting into his lungs and throat and setting his bones on fire. Concentrating the heat in his palm, Aedyn relished as his fist began to glow a familiar orange. Aleaneo immediately recoiled, releasing his neck and snatching her wrist from his grasp, staring in horror at the red burns dissipating on her skin.

Just as before, Aleaneo disappeared into the woods, but this time Aedyn lost her completely. He hadn’t even seen her turn to leave. It was as if she had simply melted into the air.


End file.
